Moth to a Flame
by winternights7695
Summary: Prince Gendry is the son of King Robert, and heir to the Iron Throne. His best friend is Jon, son of Lyanna Stark and when he goes back North, Gendry goes with him. There he meets Arya and he finds that she draws him like no one ever has. Arya loves her simple life in Winterfell, but when marriage suitors come along, her life takes a dramatic turn. One she never expected p.o.v vary
1. Chapter 1

**_Characters: Arya, Jon, Gendry, Lyanna, Ned, Rickard, Bran, Rickon, Sansa, Catelyn, Elmar, Mikken  
_**

**_Summary: Lyanna makes a discovery.__  
_**

**Moth to a Flame**

Arya

The sky was grey and overcast, the low cloud covering the North in a white mist. She had woken to the sound of laughter, the clang of swords, the woosh of arrows as her brothers practised in the courtyard. Bran had been chided for climbing yet again by their mother and she for not attending her sewing lessons by her father. For Arya, it was just a normal day in Winterfell. This was the part of the day she enjoyed the most, spending time with her aunt Lyanna. Sometimes they would go for a ride, like today. Arya turned in the saddle to regard her aunt once more. There was a brightness to her eyes that could only be described as excitement. She was happy to finally have her son coming home, as was Arya. She couldn't wait to see her favourite cousin after so long. She had missed him fiercely. In truth he was more like an older brother to Arya rather than a cousin. He used to finish sentences with her, encourage her sword practise, sneak out to go riding with her. Even the smallest things she missed like how he used to muss up her hair.

"I can't wait to see Jon again." Lyanna said softly as she turned the steed back in the direction of the fortress.

"When will they arrive?"

"Soon I should have thought. The last raven I received told me they had left the capital weeks ago. So they should be here within a day or two." Her aunt answered, bringing her horse to a stop. Her son, Jon Snow had lived for over eight years in Kings Landing, but now he was returning to Winterfell. However he wasn't alone.

"Aunt Lyanna, why is Prince Gendry coming back with him?" She asked, puzzled to her very core.

"Because they are best friends and Jon has told him many stories of the North." Her aunt explained, trying to stifle a laugh. "I'm sure he's curious to see what all the fuss is about."

"Is that all?"

"Of course, why else would he be coming all this way?" Lyanna climbed off of her horse and Arya did the same before pulling the animal back into the stables. No matter how hard she tried she still couldn't defeat her aunt in a race. The Braavos Water Dance was a different matter however. She always managed to beat her aunt in her sword practice. Lyanna turned to her and Arya saw regret in her dark grey eyes.

"I cannot dance with you today Arya, I need to speak with your father." Arya tried not to be disappointed by her words. If Lyanna needed to talk to her lord father then she wouldn't stop her. It was probably important. She walked over and kissed her niece on the forehead before heading off towards the library tower.

* * *

Lyanna

Lyanna pushed open the door to the library knowing that she would find her brother inside. The room was always warm and bright. Even in the depths of winter it kept the spirit of summer alive. Eddard Stark was in a corner, again reading the raven's letter as if the words were going to change under more scrutiny.

"They will be here soon Ned." Lyanna said to him, breaking the silence.

"I know… Cat isn't very pleased. She didn't want to lose Arya so soon after Sansa married." He replied, his voice a sigh. Though she was referring to Jon and the Prince, Ned was not.

"Has father demanded it?"

"Not yet, but I know he will. He feels that a marriage between the Starks and Freys is the only way to end the conflict between our houses."

"Could he have found someone _less_ worthy of her?" Lyanna asked, her own anger bubbling. She hated that her niece was going to be wed, but she despised the fact that her beloved Arya was being sent off to someone so callus and cold. Even _her _marriage had been kinder than that. Though she had only been with her husband for a year it had been a relatively happy one; before he had been killed. At least she still had Jon.

"Elmar Waldron Frey isn't all that bad."

"Oh yes he is." Lyanna argued, leaning over the table to stare into her older brother's eyes. "You know what he's done… he's even worse than his depraved father. Ned I beg you, do not make her marry him."

"It has already been arranged."

"Doesn't Arya at least deserve a choice? Even I had that." Her eyes pleaded and she saw the discomfort in his face. He looked up at her and searched her face for a long time. Eventually he sighed. "I will talk to father and ensure that he gives her a choice of suitors."

"That wasn't what I meant."

"Arya will learn to do her duty, for her honour."

"There is no honour to be found in making an alliance with _that_ house." Lyanna spat, her control slipping away as her anger rose. Ned didn't say anything else and she knew she had said enough. He would either listen or he wouldn't and only time could tell.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Summary: Gendry and Jon make an overdue arrival at Winterfell. **_

Gendry

As Gendry and Jon travelled, he knew when they had reached the North. The bright southern colours dimmed, the flat lands heightened into rolling hills and the sun died. Yet there was vitality to this land, a life that far outshone Kings Landing. Here everything was spring-like and lush, though the air was crisp and cold, the sky white and threatening to snow. He didn't mind. He actually rather enjoyed the change in scenery. Besides he was dressed warmly and he could already see the great fortress of Winterfell. It had huge grey stone walls and spires that seemed to break into the low cloud.

"It looks better in the sun." Jon joked, seeing his reaction.

Gendry grinned at his friend knowing it wasn't Winterfell he had come to see, though the sight was welcome after their weeks of travel. In the distance he could see two horses running towards them. He couldn't make out the features though he could see that one of them was a woman. Jon smiled and kicked his horse into motion and he followed, watching as the people became more distinct. One was indeed a woman, her long hair free and curling at the ends as it whipped in the wind. Her eyes were grey but shone, as if they were reflecting the light. He knew who those eyes belonged to, Jon's mother Lady Lyanna Stark. She beamed at them both as her horse came to a stop beside Jon. She hugged him tightly while a top her horse before pulling back. They were smiling at one another.

"Mother it is good to see you."

"And you Jon; Prince Gendry, it is a pleasure." She bowed her head in respect to him. "Allow me to introduce my nephew, Bran of House Stark." Lyanna introduced, and he studied the boy closely. Bran was younger than himself around the age of eight and ten, his dark hair almost reached his shoulders and he was wearing thick furs. His eyes were different to his aunt's, showing more of a pale blue than a grey, but his smile was just as easy.

"My Prince welcome to the North." He too bowed his head to him before offering to race Jon back home. As he watched the two horses gallop away and Lady Lyanna came up beside him, their pace steady.

"How many years has it been?" She asked with a smile.

"Ah too many my lady, but then I've been busy keeping your son out of trouble." She chuckled at his words, knowing that they were both as bad as each other.

"Is that correct? I knew it was a mistake to allow Jon to live in Kings Landing, the both of you must have almost driven your father mad." It was his turn to laugh.

"Hardly, my father never paid any attention to either of us; he's much too busy ruling the Seven Kingdoms." Gendry said softly, not really knowing if what he said was a jest or not. His father had never taking ruling seriously.

"In that case you may stay as long as you wish, the hospitality of Winterfell is yours."

"Thank you."

They rode the rest of the way in a comfortable silence; he inspected the North Country again. It was a lavish green with the melting ground snow. The tree's stood proud and tall, never seeming to end. The woods were dotted with the red of Weirwood trees, a forbidden sight in the South. Soon enough they reached the outer walls of Winterfell and he could hear the ringing clash of metal in the yard, people talking and laughing and the howling of wolves. Though the sound should have unnerved him it didn't. Jon's direwolf Ghost had grown to a massive size over the years but he was sure that the sound didn't come from him. The creature was silent, even when he moved, hence his name.

When he came into the court he saw the blacksmith's forge, the local people who lived within the walls, the farmers, they all nodded or bowed or knelt as he passed them. As he and Lady Lyanna dismounted their steeds, he saw the Stark family before him. While the men bowed, Lady Catelyn and her daughter Arya curtsied. When he spotted her his stomach performed a nervous flip. He was a little surprised to see her stood before him, knowing how unruly she was. He suspected that she had been forced to greet him. She grinned briefly before she dived into Jon's arms.

"Jon!" She called happily, leaping at him. A broad smile stretched across her face as she tightened her hold.

"Oof, Gods Arya, you're getting too big to be jumping at me like this." Though his words chided, his voice was nothing but gentle. He hugged her harder, pulling her from the ground.

"Shut up! I missed you!" She laughed and buried her face in the crook of his neck. He set her down, careful not to drop her and hugged his mother properly.

"Mother, you look well." He pulled back to study Lyanna's face, his looks so much like her own.

"As do you. Gods you look so much like your father." She said with a wide smile. She bent to pat Ghost between his ears.

Arya took her eyes from her cousin to inspect Gendry. She didn't bow her head when their gazes met; rather her eyes were steady, taking him in from is black hair to his muddy boots. Her expression never changed but he did notice a slight tremor in those silver eyes as he inspected her in return. Was she afraid of him? He frowned and her eyes darted away.

"Prince Gendry, you honour us with your presence, but please come, you should feast and rest. It is a long journey from Kings Landing and I'm sure you would be glad of it." Lord Rickard Stark said, calling him from his musings. Despite his old age, the voice rang true and clear. Gendry cleared his throat in order to reply.

"Thank you Lord Stark, I would be very grateful to lay for a while before seeing your home for myself. I've heard many stories." Gendry glanced at Jon, returning his grin.

"Then so you shall." Lord Rickard replied, a small smile turning up his thin mouth.

* * *

Soon enough Gendry found himself in a large comfortable room, the floors and walls heated from the underground springs. His bed was covered in thick furs and soft wool throws. The aged windows gave him a view of the courtyard below where he could hear the ring of clashing steel. When Gendry looked down he saw Lady Arya locked in combat with her aunt, but rather than practising with wooden swords, they were using real metal and held nothing back. Intrigued, he dried himself from his bath and clothed, making his way down to where the ladies battled. He made no noise, for he did not wish to interrupt their duel.

Concentration was etched into their faces as they attacked and parried, retreated and collided again. He was fascinated with how Arya moved. She seemed to glide; her movements were graceful and effortless as they penetrated her aunt's defence. Lyanna was quick and skilled to be true, but Arya far out matched her. Within minutes, Lyanna was pinned to the floor, her niece's sword, _Needle _pointed at her throat.

"Yield" She panted, gasping for breath as Arya helped her up.

"Well done Arya, you truly are a swordswoman to be proud of. I'm sure Syrio would be very pleased with you." She grinned down at Arya, respect and delight shining in the depths of her eyes. It was then she glanced up at him and curtsied.

"Prince Gendry, you should have made yourself known." Arya spun, her eyes scanning over him. She didn't bow or even acknowledge him in any way. He didn't mind for he remembered what Jon had told him about his cousin countless times. _'She's stubborn to her core and can be rather infuriating. She's rebellious and defiant'_ Gendry grinned, seeing for himself that his friend's words were not exaggerated. She stood tall and straight, her chin rose as if daring him to challenge her. Her eyes were like her aunts, only more unusual. They were not a mere grey, rather silver.

"You seemed so engaged with your niece that I did not want to distract you Lady Lyanna." Lyanna sheathed her sword with a chuckle.

"I fear I no longer test my dear niece's skills, for she has surpassed me in the art of Water Dancing." He found himself grinning. _'Art of water dancing' _she had said. Jon had once told him that Arya had such lessons, but he didn't know what he had really meant until now. Obviously it wasn't a typical method of sword play that the girl had been taught. "Now my dear Arya, I must ask you to come with me, we must get ready for the feast." She commented, taking her arm and leading her to their quarters. As they passed he was sure that he heard Arya groan.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Summary: An embarrassed Arya meets a Prince. **_

Arya

Arya was sat on a chair whilst her aunt Lyanna worked on her hair. She braided strands from the side and tied them at the back of her head. For the rest of her dark mane, she just brushed, trying to get out the ferocious tangles. When done, it shimmered in a mahogany wave down her lower back. Arya had argued with her lady mother when she had insisted that she wore a dress and in the end stood defeated when Lyanna had heard her raised cries. It was a dark blue silk, its sleeves long and bell shaped. It pulled in at the waist when her aunt tied it, its neckline scooped and low. It was a gift from her sister and Arya hated it.

"Arya, don't look at me like that. You look lovely." Lyanna said, her eyes warning not to argue on the subject.

All Arya saw was pale skin, black-brown hair and grey eyes that were too large for her face. She didn't have the lovely red locks or deep blue eyes of the Tully's. She had her aunt's grey eyes and dark hair. All of her family compared her to Lyanna, saying how similar they were in looks and behaviour but Arya could never see the similarities in their appearances. All her childhood, Arya had put up with her brothers and sister calling her 'horse face'. Arya usually gave what she got and call them names in return, not really caring about the consequences.

Even some of the lords and ladies who visited Winterfell passed jokes and comments about her. They said she was almost a Wildling, with unruly manners and unladylike behaviour. When these comments had reached her mother's ears, Arya had been _forced _to become more like Sansa. Lady Catelyn said that she "had humiliated her family and herself". Since then she had tried to compromise. She had mostly obeyed her mother (with her aunts help) and in the meantime done as she wished. Since the last time comments had been made, Arya had grown a lot and learned to act properly in front of others. Except when_ his_ royal blue eyes had fixed on her Arya had waited for his remarks on her hair, looks, dress, manners, yet they never came. In the end she had been a little relieved when Lyanna had dragged her out of his sight. The thought annoyed her as her Uncle Brandon's words echoed in her head. _The wolf doesn't cower._ But she had. Like a small child she had awaited his observations without standing up for herself.

"Don't make me go out." Arya begged her aunt, seeing the surprise on her face as her niece pleaded. She smiled softly after a moment, seeming to know what Arya was thinking.

"Just because you do not look like your mother or Sansa does not mean that you are not beautiful. Arya you are a Stark of Winterfell. You have the wolf-blood in you and you are a daughter of the North."

"Yes but I-"

"Arya, listen to me. You are stunning. Never doubt that." Lyanna cut in and Arya shuddered, a deep breath escaping her as she listened to her favourite aunt. _The wolf doesn't cower. _Lyanna kissed her head and walked out, leaving Arya alone to gather herself.

All too soon she found her way down to the Great Hall where she could hear boisterous laughter and cheery music echoing. The long tables were piled high with food and wine. The walls were lined with candles that illuminated the sigils of both houses. The snarling grey direwolf of the Starks, were hung from the beamed ceiling to the floor, and next to them was the yellow and black flag of House Baratheon, the stag on its hind legs while it's head thrust into the air. At the high table sat her siblings and parents, her grandfather Lord Rickard in the centre speaking to his son on one side. On his other sat Lyanna, Jon and Prince Gendry. All of them were contentedly feasting and talking.

_I am blood of the wolf._ Arya thought to herself as she walked up to the high table. Her seat had been reserved so she sat between Jon and Lyanna. Arya was grateful that she wasn't sat next to the prince. For some reason he irritated her. She was happy to see Jon, but _he_ was an outsider and she didn't believe Lyanna's story that he was here simply to quench his curiosity. The idea seemed stupid to Arya. She sat in between them and chewed some bread and meat while sipping a cup of wine, listening as her aunt spoke to the Baratheon prince.

"How do you find Winterfell Gendry?"

"It's lovely. I didn't expect it to be like this." He replied, leaning behind Jon to speak to her more easily. "It's so-"

"Cold?" Jon finished for him with a laugh.

Arya grinned, amused with the changes that the prince must have seen on his journey North. It was very different to the South. Travellers had often called it dreary and miserable, but Arya loved it. It was the South that she couldn't stand with its heat and smells; it was a place for ambitions and treachery. Whereas the North was clean and crisp, the summer snows frequent but not unpleasant. It was more honest here with the Old Gods watching over them.

She was yanked from her own thoughts as Rickon (her youngest brother only at the age of eight) ran up the table and pulled her up to dance. She disliked dancing greatly but she did it anyway, knowing that an argument would unfold with her lady mother if she didn't. She inwardly prayed that she didn't make a fool of herself as she moved to the sound of clapping and the beat of the music. Rickon laughed and turned her and for a while she forgot the people around her.

When she stopped, Jon was there and asked her to dance with him. She hit him and complained but he dragged her back and all the while she could hear a deep chuckling coming from the high table. Her eyes chanced a glance up and he could see that Gendry had moved into her seat in order to speak to her aunt more easily. Every so often his blue gaze would return to her and she didn't understand why.

"What do you think of him?" Jon asked her, following her stare. She turned to look at her favourite cousin.

"He irritates me." She answered honestly. There was no point in lying to Jon. "He makes me feel…uncomfortable." Jon sighed, seeing the sadness in her eyes."Like he's judging me or-"

"That is not his intention Arya; I want you to know that. He really likes you; he always listened when I told him stories of us. He always asked after you in the letters we received from Winterfell."

"Why?" She asked in shock. Why would a prince of all people care about how she was?

"He's a decent man Arya. He knew how much you mean to me, and as you know he and I are close. He's my best friend, so he probably felt close to you too." A distant part of her mind recognised the sense to his words. She also felt a twinge of guilt. Perhaps she had misjudged him.

"I know that look too." Jon sniggered. "Don't feel bad Arya, you don't know him. It's natural for a wolf to be cautious around people she doesn't know. I am like that too in Kings Landing; around the people that live in the Red Keep." He leaned in close to speak in her ear. "Between you and me, I can't stand it there it's too, hot."

She smiled up at him; she adored knowing he was like her. They were both a little dissimilar to others around them though Jon and Lyanna never treat her any differently. He took her hand and led her back to the table where he sat in Gendry's unoccupied space, leaving her to sit between him and the prince. When she sat, he turned to her, blue eyes blazing with an emotion that she didn't understand.

"You are a wonderful dancer Lady Arya, although you do not attend your dance lessons." He smiled at her, a perfect flash of white in the dim room.

"I do attend my dance lessons." She retorted, referring to her Water Dance lessons. He knew what she meant and Lyanna chuckled next to him.

"My niece does not swoon at the sound of sweet words my Prince. She is not like her older sister, Sansa."

"Indeed? Then I shall have to double my efforts." He teased, the sound all good humour.

"No don't." Arya mumbled into her goblet. His gaze made her feel funny and she didn't like it. "Please excuse me." She said whilst pushing back her chair and striding from the room.

* * *

Gendry

Gendry sat and watched Arya leave, her cheeks flushed from embarrassment. He hadn't meant for her to feel awkward. He hadn't expected her to pay him much attention at all if he were honest. But he supposed it was inevitable. He was new here and a prince so almost everyone was a little intrigued by him.

"That wasn't you." Jon reassured him, coming into Arya's place.

"You're a terrible liar my friend." He laughed back.

"I'm sure she will be fine… she just doesn't like wearing dresses or having to be nice to people that she doesn't know all that well. Plus she feels a little self-conscious when people stare at her." Jon explained in a light-hearted manner and Gendry trusted him. Jon was the closest person to Arya – except her aunt.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Summary: Gendry tries to find the real Arya Stark.**_

Gendry

The next night was almost a repeat of the first, except Arya acted more introvert than before. He had seen her in the courtyard that morning, teaching her brother, Rickon how to hold a long bow properly. He smiled as he saw her patience, her silver eyes gleaming and encouraging her small sibling. He had hit the target a few times, each one becoming closer to the centre when three girls had come by.

They were around the same age as Arya, perhaps a year or so younger. They were dressed immaculately, similar to the ladies in the South, all pretty and fake. They glanced at Arya's clothes, seeing her breeches and shirt, the smudge of dirt on her face, the way her hair was tied back. It was then he noticed that they had stopped directly in her and Rickon's way as they tried to practice.

"Ooh look, its Lady Wildling!" A blond haired girl had called mockingly.

"Lady Horseface you mean." Another said, her dark hair piled high on her head in the Southern fashion. He had never heard girls speak to a lady that way before. He noticed that they only spoke in such ways when she was alone.

"Don't you have someone else to go and annoy?" Arya replied, her chin lifting as if she had accepted a challenge.

"As a matter of fact, we were on our way to see Prince Gendry." The first girl said, in a high and grating voice. He would love to know what they wanted to say to him.

"I pity him to have wanted such company." He chuckled under his breath, watching as Arya argued with the other girls.

"Well at least we would be decent company and a welcome sight. Who would want to be around you, a girl who plays with sticks and swords and who dresses as a boy?"

"It's called a lance not a stick." She snapped and Gendry sympathized with Rickon who stood between the arguing women, his large blue eyes innocent and lost as he gripped Arya's hand. "At least I know how to handle one. What do you do all day? Play with sewing needles? How thrilling it must be." Arya scoffed sarcastically.

"It may not be as _thrilling _as your life Arya Underfoot, but at the end of the day we are accepted as ladies. We are fit for the presence of princes unlike _you_." The oldest girl murmured, in a voice that was low and cruel. Her eyes were the colour of summer grass but they were as cold as ice. The other girls laughed and she continued. "Who would ever look at you in those dirty clothes? You look less than a daughter of a blacksmith never mind a lord." The girl flicked back her long hair and walked away, her blue dress swishing with the movement. He was tempted to come forward to prove exactly who would look at Arya in those clothes but her voice stopped him.

"Rickon, pass me your bow. I'm going to show you how to hit a moving target." Arya said quietly, aiming at the eldest girls turned back.

Gendry doubted that no matter how angry she was, she wouldn't actually attack the girl. But then again he wasn't sure. Arya altered the angle of her bow, almost to the ground and released the arrow. It hit the back of the girls dress, pinning it to the stony ground. Arya grinned to herself, pleased.

When the girl tried to move again her legs tangled and she fell forward. The girl shrieked as she picked herself up, seeing the mud cover her dress. Her hair was also sodden and filthy, mud clinging to her brown locks. She turned a lethal gaze to Arya who curtsied pleasantly, a sweet smile turning up her lips. Gendry tried to supress a laugh. The sight was uncommonly funny and one he had never expected even from Arya. With that the furious girl strode over to her and Rickon who Arya gently pushed behind her. She leaned in close and whispered something that he was unable to catch. Then it was the girls turn to grin smugly as she wandered off, her head held high. Arya packed up her things and went inside, her face flushed and eyes angry.

* * *

Right now, she and Jon were up dancing and Lyanna leaned in close in order to speak into his ear. He had told her what he had witnessed and asked if it played any part in her quiet behaviour tonight. Gendry had also confessed his confusion at why Arya would allow those pompous girls comments to affect her.

"Arya doesn't see herself as we see her." She said softly. "When she was young her brothers and even her sister used to call her names. It never bothered her, but now she is older and recognizes what they said, it gets to her."

Gendry sighed, leaning back in his chair. So that was why Arya had sat in silence all night and looked at him as though he was going to rebuff her. She thought he was comparing her to ladies in Kings Landing, like the girls from this morning. Those that spoke with words they had been taught to say like birds singing tunes only pleasant to the ears. The girls who never spoke out of turn or spoke truthfully scared of being themselves. They dressed in fine silk, danced properly and knew nothing other than court life. How could he possibly prefer them to her?

Lyanna pulled back and he saw the concern for her niece shining in those pale eyes.

"She will be alright My Prince, I assure you."

"For most of my youth I heard stories about a feisty girl with a bad temper and an infectious laugh." Gendry replied with a slow smile. "And I want to meet her." Lady Lyanna laughed.

"I'm sure you shall Prince Gendry, Arya is like that most of the time I promise. Perhaps you should try and speak to her alone tomorrow. She will more likely be herself when she is not surrounded by idiots." At the end Lyanna's gaze dragged over to the three girls that Arya had spoken to.

* * *

In the morning Gendry had broken his fast with Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn, speaking of his father and Kings Landing, ruling and tournaments. It was mere politeness and nothing of particular importance. But it had sped the morning along.

Once again he headed out to the yard in search of Arya but she was nowhere to be found. The rain had begun late in the night and slammed hard to the ground. But he still heard a grunt and clang of metal. Next to the stables, he could see the forge and a rim of light behind the door. He ran over, being careful when he entered not to make much noise. Arya was practising in the warmth of the forge.

She was wearing tight black breeches that clung to her legs and a dark top that was soaked in sweat. Her back was to him, her hair tied back in a messy plait. In her hand was an unsheathed _Needle _as she practiced her Water Dance, a sword style of Braavos. She ducked and flipped; she dropped and swung. Her body was agile and spry as she danced. She used her weapon for balance as well as for rehearsing her attacks and blocks.

She used her hands to support and strike her imagined opponents. He watched her in absolute fascination as she panted and performed. He had never seen anything so perfect and the more she moved, the more he saw her beauty. Though her body was small, it was elegantly curved, a small tucked in waist, a lovely flare of hips and a soft swell of her breasts. Her face was delicately pointed with pale unblemished skin, rosy from her exercise. Her eyes were the purest silver, gleaming in the light like Valyrian steel. Before he could continue his ogling she turned and gasped, clutching _Needle _even tighter.

"Prince Gendry, what are you doing here?"

"I came looking for you." He said plainly, deciding honesty was the best way to go. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Why?" She demanded, placing her fists against her hips. Her face glared at him.

"To speak to you, about last night," For a moment, he saw vulnerability shine in those depths before it was squashed. "To say that I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't upset me." He heard the lie though her voice was strong and didn't quiver. He had upset her, for every time he looked up at her at the feast she had nearly flinched. Her eyes had been pools of unshed tears though none could be seen.

"Then what did?" Gendry asked her boldly, and her mouth dropped. He just wanted her back to normal and according to Jon, annoying her was one of the best ways. So was teasing.

"That is none of your business!" She yelled her anger obvious. He should have stepped back and allowed her room to breathe but he didn't. He was stubborn. Jon hadn't named him 'The Bull' for nothing.

"Your aunt told me that your siblings used to call you names." He met her gaze with his own watching as she silently nodded, unsure of how to take his words. He thoughts about what those girls had said to her. "So did mine. They stopped as soon as I got older and bigger than them."

"I'm sure they were all terrified of you. Unlike my siblings who continued relentlessly because I was different from them." She whispered softly, almost to herself.

"I am sorry, but I know-"

"You don't know anything so don't pretend you know me." She growled, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"I do know a lot about you Lady Arya, your cousin Jon-"

"Jon has been away for years stupid." Arya said not worried that she had insulted a prince of the Seven Kingdoms.

"You shouldn't insult people bigger than you."

"Then I wouldn't get to insult anyone." She replied curtly and he chortled. When he had first seen her he had thought her defiant, but now he saw her for how Jon had described. Determined and stubborn meeting whatever came her way with squared shoulders and a witty response.

Before she could sheath _Needle _he stepped forward and inspected the blade in his hands, seeing how fine the work was.

"This is lovely work." Gendry complimented, feeling the sharp edges and perfect balance.

"It was a gift from Jon for my tenth name-day." Arya replied.

"Yes he told me."

"He did?" She asked, obviously wondering what else he had been told about her. "What else did he say?" Arya pried, her curiosity getting the better of her. He smiled.

"He mentioned that she was becoming more beautiful every day and that she made men's heads turn." Arya laughed nervously as he continued as a light pink spreading across her face. "He also told me that his beloved cousin was becoming one of the best riders of the North along with a fierce swordswoman."

"I can thank my aunt for that. She is the one who has indulged me. My lady mother hates me to play at swords and archery." She said a tint of sadness in her voice. "If she had her way I would be a smaller version of Sansa." She took _Needle _from his hands and placed it in the engraved scabbard that hung from her hips.

"Is that why you practice in here?" He asked, finding himself wanting to hear her voice again. She returned her silver gaze to his.

"Yes, Mikken- our blacksmith- is kind. He knows that if I train in the yard Septa Mordane will find me and drag me off to sewing or some other stupid lady thing." She grumbled. He was fascinated by her rant, listening to the way she described things was totally unlike anything he had heard from a lady before.

"I used to want to kill Sansa when she dressed me up or swanned around proudly in the new dresses she made." He chuckled and she sighed thoughtfully. "I suppose I was _very _different from her and my lady mother… even from my aunt Lyanna."

"There is nothing wrong with that." Gendry replied, seeing her mouth twitch upwards. He liked her just as she was and so did Jon _and _Lyanna. He liked the way she was unique to those around her, questioning everything. Arya was quiet for a long time, seeming to gaze into nothing before she glanced back up at him.

"I suppose I should apologise for my tardiness for the feast that was in your honour last night."

"Not at all my lady, though I am a little surprised that you remembered who I was." She snorted.

"It wasn't difficult. Everyone had been talking about your arrival for days. I thought that my mother would never stop." Arya complained, her voice verging on a chuckle. "I don't know why there were so worked up about you, when I first heard I thought you would be coming with over a hundred guards and servants but no." She noted, her head tilting to the side as she regarded him. He was sure other things had been said about him too but she didn't elaborate any further.

"I did not need them besides more men attract more attention. Jon and I could handle the Kings Road." Gendry answered her and she nodded at his words, sensing the logic behind them. Then suddenly she smiled, her full lips curling up. She was lovely when she smiled.

"So you have had sword training?" She asked and he chuckled at her question, liking the way she challenged him even in such a small matter.

"Not in the Braavosi Water Dance my lady but yes." Something shone in her eyes and it looked like disappointment. "Did it truly take you two years to learn it?"

"Yes, it was a lot of work involved. But it was worth it, I beat everyone now." She said with pride.

"Is that so? Then I would like to challenge you a duel Lady Arya." Gendry replied with a low bow. She laughed at him, her voice filled with genuine amusement. Gods, he loved that sound.

"I warn you, fighting me may get you injured… unless I hold back." She frowned at the thought.

"Hold nothing back."

"Very well Prince Gendry, I accept your challenge."


	5. Chapter 5

**_Summary: For the first time, Arya see's what all the fuss is about._  
**

Arya

Arya couldn't believe the person in front of her.

He was so… amiable; not at all what she had expected of a prince. Though she hated to admit it, perhaps Jon had been right. She could almost see why the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms was her cousin's best friend.

She watched him as he carefully gained his balance, removing his cloak and dumping the fur on the floor. Arya slipped into her well-practised stance, closing her eyes and breathing deeply to focus her senses. She knew when he saw her closed eyes that he would charge for her and he did just that. Her eyes snapped open as she spun to the left, _Needle _hitting his sword almost to the ground.

Surprise shone in his ocean blue eyes as he felt her strength. She used his twisted position to her advantage, swinging out her back leg to bring the Prince to his knees. With a grunt he slipped but easily dodged her swords blade as she brought it down. He parried and blocked and shoved her back, the flat edge of his blade slamming against her upper arm. She groaned at the sharp pain but didn't let it slow her.

He came at her again but she deflected his blow, the singing of steel ringing in the forge. It mixed with their pants and the hard slam of the rain outside. She loved this. Never had she felt so alive until she fought with someone; especially when they made her work for it. Soon enough they were both sweating, the prince's thick black hair was plastered to his head as if he had stepped from a bath.

He was better than she had anticipated his blue eyes careful as he studied her moves. He still wasn't fast enough however and she used that to her benefit. Arya twisted as he parried, managing to dislodge the blade from his hands. It landed on the ground with a clunk. She pointed the end of _Needle _at his chest.

"Dead boy." She laughed and he chuckled with her.

"I yield." She stepped away and sheathed _Needle_. She wiped the sweat from her face with her shirt sleeve. "I request for a re-match tomorrow." He panted and she laughed, only too happy to indulge him.

* * *

The next night they duelled in the forge again and Arya was surprised by the prince's improvement. But she was still more precise, which eventually enabled her to kick him in the chest. Not particularly hard, but enough to get him to the floor. He landed on his back with a gasp as the air escaped his body. She pounced, landing on top of him, her legs straddling his waist. _Needle _was pointed at the pulse point in his throat. He stared up at her, his eyes wide and bright.

"Yield." He managed to breathe and she lowered the blade, leaning back to catch her breath. "Well done Lady Arya."

Though she was pleased she had won, and hearing him say the words made the victory all the sweeter, she hated when he used her title whenever he addressed her. She didn't like it when people used titles to speak to one another. She looked down, trying to hide her expression.

"My Lady, are you alright?" He asked her softly as he sat up, resting his weight on his elbows.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't call me 'lady'."

"But it's what you are." The prince argued, his voice still rasping from their exertion.

"No, my mother and sister are ladies, not me." He watched her for a long time and she wondered if she had angered him but then he smiled radiantly.

"As you wish, but if I cannot call you by your title you cannot name me by mine." Her eyes flashed to his as the room lit up from lightening outside. She smiled back.

He rose even further so that their faces were close, his eyes level with hers. She felt uncomfortable with their proximity but couldn't move. Her body was stunned by his closeness. She really hadn't seen his handsome features until now. Before he had arrived the girls had swooned and giggled stupidly, telling tales of the prince and Arya had laughed at them. But now, being so close to him, she could see why they had said those things.

His eyes were a brilliant, deep blue, like the colour of the Narrow Sea. His skin was tinted golden, tanned and healthy over the well-built muscles of his arms and chest. A couple of times Arya had felt her gaze lower to his mouth, lips that looked soft and tender yet always tilted into a wicked grin. To distract herself (surely she shouldn't be looking at him like that), she spoke to him.

"Are you hurt?" She asked, suddenly concerned. He was still a prince even though he didn't want to be named it.

"No, though any longer and I would have been." He mumbled, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

Some part of her wanted to apologise, but she didn't. He knew what he had asked of her. He knew what she was capable of.

"And you? I hit your arm quite hard." She had forgotten about her arm, but now she realised it throbbed. She lifted a hand and moved her shirt sleeve so she could see the bruise that she felt forming. Her arm was red, already turning purple. He winced.

"I'm fine, I've had a lot worse."

While on her stay in Braavos, Arya's dance tutor hadn't treated her kindly. He had taught her that every bruise was a lesson and she had become stronger for it. Eventually her fighting had become more the end, she had stood victorious over Syrio Forel too.

She lowered her shirt sleeve, and returned her gaze to Gendry. Sweat and dirt streaked his handsome face and she felt herself sniggering at him. He had probably never been so mucky in his life. His eyebrow rose at her, a silent question.

"You're filthy." Arya answered.

"So are you." He retorted, a faint blush seeping into his face.

He suddenly squinted and tuned his face upwards, towards the ceiling. Though she couldn't see the hole among the stone and timber, a trickle of water began dripping onto Gendry's head. Arya laughed again as he frowned.

"Even the Gods agree with me; you need to wash." She was surprised at herself teasing him like that. It wasn't like her, but she couldn't help herself. She felt like a silly little girl, like the ones she always made fun of. She even reminded herself of Sansa, though less proper and less clean. He grinned back, one corner of his mouth turning upwards.

"I suppose I do, but then..." He brushed his thumb across her cheek, leaving a dirt trail. "You haven't seen yourself." He finished, his eyes sparking with mischief. Her face warmed under his touch. She swatted his hand away in embarrassment.

"You have spent too much time with Jon." Arya commented, thinking of how she could get her revenge.

"Mhm, perhaps I have. I need to spend my time in someone else's company." She was sure that he was mocking her. It was etched into the line of his mouth, the playful light of his eyes.

"Spend any more time with me _M__y Prince _and am sure you will end up limping." Arya said sweetly, watching him absorb her threat.

"Is that so _M__y Lady_?"

"Do not call me milady!" She growled at him, listening to his laughing echo in the forge.

She pushed at his broad chest as her anger with him soared. She had expected him to laugh. What she didn't expect was for his warm hands to take possession of hers as he flipped her over, so that she was now _underneath _him. She stared up, shocked. He had moved her so easily, as if she weighed no more than a feather. He chuckled again as she tried to buck him off, but she wasn't strong enough. Her legs were encased in his as took her wrists and placed them beside her head, so she was completely pinned under his body. Gendry sniggered at her expression.

"What were you saying about me limping?" He inquired, lowering his head closer to hers.

All she could see were his brilliant sapphire eyes. Arya felt warm suddenly, her skin heating and it had nothing to do with their fight. She didn't understand it, and she didn't know why she would feel like that when he pinned her down. She felt excited and tingly all over. It was strange, but not unpleasant. Something inside her stomach coiled tightly. His face never altered from being playful but there was a different light in his eyes. It was something that Arya couldn't place; it almost looked like… desire.

She shook her head, dislodging the thought. She was mistaken. He wouldn't look at her like that. No one ever looked at her like that.

"I was saying that you are going to have every limb broken if you do not get off me." She reared again and failed to move him so much as an inch.

"The Bull does not fear the wolf." He stated, his stare shining with stubbornness.

"Then The Bull is very stupid. The Bull should remember that he is in a wolf's den and she is surrounded by her pack." Arya commented, wriggling her body to see if she could squirm free. Gendry just tightened his hold on her until she was immobile. He was _strong_.

"That may be, but there are no other wolves around so for now, The Bull is safe." The corner of his mouth twitched as if he were fighting a smile. Annoyingly, she couldn't help but grin back up at him. He was right.

"_ARYA!_" Screamed her mother from the doorway and Gendry pulled her to her feet. "What are you doing?"

Her mother's furious blue eyes glared at Arya as she took in her unclean form. She stepped forward and roughly grabbed her arm before turning to look down at her.

"Go to your chambers and clean yourself… _now_."


	6. Chapter 6

**_Summary: A beauty is revealed. _ **

Gendry

Gendry watched Arya leave as Lady Catelyn stared after her in fury and embarrassment. Her face was red and drawn as her jaw clenched.

"Lady Catelyn, it was my fault." He posed to her, watching as she listened to his words. "I asked Arya to duel with me." Gendry tried to explain and he saw a little of her anger die.

"May that be, she should not be fighting boys in the dirt. Arya forgets herself Your Grace; she forgets that she is actually a Lord's daughter. I ask for your pardon on her behalf."

Though Gendry felt twinges of guilt in his stomach at getting Arya into trouble, it was outweighed with astonishment at her mother's reaction. She truly hated her youngest daughter being anything other than ladylike. He should have been pleased that she didn't want her daughter to act like that, but it didn't. It caused sadness to swell within him as he knew then that Arya would forever be forced to behave in the manner expected of her. She would never be allowed to be herself, in fear of embarrassing her family.

"Lady Stark there is nothing to forgive. Please, do not be angry with Lady Arya as the blame lies with me." After all, he was the one who had _her _pinned beneath _him_.

"I suppose so. I shall have to be much firmer with her. I thought that it was a phase she was going through, but apparently not. It appears she has the wolf-blood, much like her aunt."

With her words, Lady Catelyn disappeared out of the forge. He followed, enjoying the feeling of the cold rain on his skin. Arya had exhausted him and he was now feeling the consequence of sparring with her so vigorously. He had loved the way she moved, so deadly and accurate her lithe body springing into action moments before his blade struck her. Her silvery eyes had gleamed pure and brilliant in the dim forge while she studied him. They had shone with pride when she had defeated him, grinning triumphantly as _Needle _rested in the hollow column of his throat.

She had been dirty and sweat had sheened on her skin, yet no one had ever looked more beautiful to him. He had seen hundreds of highborn women at court and in Kings Landing, all perfect with their pleasant words and perfume scents. But it was Arya that excited him, Arya with her rebellious nature and threatening tone of voice. Jon's stories of his Winterfell home had intrigued him as they grew up together. He had listened eagerly whenever Jon mentioned his favourite younger cousin. He had always spoken so wistfully, and Gendry had known that he had missed the girl. But it was only now Gendry knew why.

She wasn't like anyone he had ever met before and she was certainly unlike all the girls in court. Laid under him as she had been, he had felt every plane of her body, every soft angle. He had loved the light weight of her, as she seemed to fit against him so perfectly. He had also seen a searing irritation that had flashed in her eyes when he had pinned her with his bulk. But then as she gazed up at him the look changed into something hotter, something that burned. He could have sworn it was longing. Her whole face had softened, regarding him as though he were the only thing she could see. Then in a blink it had gone, as though she had convinced herself otherwise. Did she think that she was undesirable?

Lost in his thoughts, Gendry washed and changed in a daze, not really noticing anything as he walked down to the Great Hall until Jon came up beside him, a grin stuck on his face.

"You must tell me everything! I could hear Lady Catelyn screaming at Arya when I was in the stables!"

"We duelled in the forge and her lady mother found us. That is it." Gendry chuckled, his mind reliving those moments spent alone with Arya.

"That's it?" Jon asked, his eyes scrutinizing Gendry's face as if he didn't believe a word of it. He laughed at him.

They walked into the room his eyes immediately sought the dark-haired beauty he had fought with, and he found her sat on the high table, smirking at her aunt despite the fact she wore a green dress. Her mother spoke to her father, her eyes still sparkling with a rage that _he_ had caused. They made their way to the table and Jon resumed the same seat he had the night previous. Gendry stopped before Lady Catelyn.

"I apologise again Lady Stark, I did not mean any harm." He said solemnly, bowing his head to her in respect. Her chin tilted upwards reminding him of Arya.

"Be that as it may Your Grace, my daughter must learn her place." Lord Eddard said for his lady wife, his voice calm and level, leaving no room for argument.

"She overlooks who she is and that she must honour not only herself, but her family also." Gendry felt at a loss as he made his way to his seat. Lyanna leaned behind Jon to grin at him.

"My niece tells me that she beat you in a duel."

"She did indeed my lady; I admit that I am grateful to not be limping." He smirked as Jon patted Arya on the back as she choked on a gulp of wine. "I shall have to improve to even consider challenging her again."

After that he ate and drank in silence, listening to the tense atmosphere at the other end of the table. He could hear Lady Catelyn arguing with old Lord Rickard Stark and he wondered what it was about. Then she stormed out of the hall, her husband almost chasing after her. Arya and Jon dimly noticed and Lady Lyanna groaned, her eyes darting to her lord father. His face was set in stone, an unreadable mask. For some reason it made Gendry nervous and to distract himself, he asked Arya to dance with him. Jon had sniggered until she hit him on the arm and he had then had the grace to be quiet.

As he and Arya moved in time to the music his eyes moved to see Lyanna smile tenderly at him before she leaned into her father but he didn't share that smile. He said something to his daughter that caused her to huff in anger.

He and Arya separated; swapping partners and then came back together again all in time with the cheery song. That moment Arya's palms pressed to his and they turned and he found himself staring down at her. She was radiant. Her silver eyes shone in the candlelight. Her hair had been combed and sections of it were weaved. Her gown was a pale green, elegantly made to fit her body perfectly. He cleared his throat, breaking out of his stare.

"I thought you hated dresses." Gendry teased unable to stop himself. Arya shrugged.

"I do, but I feared angering my lady mother further." She said lightly, not showing any fear at all. Gendry felt a wave of pride, pleased that she didn't cower before her parents or anyone else.

"Why are you grinning like that?" Arya asked him, her eyes twinkling.

"Honestly, I am not sure…" He answered her, seeing the disbelief in her silver gaze. "Though it may have something to do with the knowledge that I need more sword practice."

"Well that is a coincidence. Maybe I shall in the Godswood tomorrow night." He laughed. The invitation for him to join her was too obvious.

* * *

Lyanna

Lyanna watched as her niece and Gendry danced together. They were locked in discussion, their eyes only on each other as they moved around gracefully. Lyanna was surprised that her niece had accepted the Prince's request to dance, but then perhaps they had wanted to talk alone. There really wasn't any place for a quiet discussion at the high table. Arya's lips turned up at something he had said before they separated again. She really was pretty when she smiled.

Lyanna's chest filled with hope as she studied them together. Their bodies were close once more, closer than the other couples who danced with them. Their hands were touching, which wasn't a part of the routine. Gendry's deep blue eyes stared down at Arya as if she were the only thing in the room.

It was true that she looked very much a lady tonight, dressed in a pastel shade of emerald that contrasted her lovely hair and silver eyes. There was a spark in her gaze that Lyanna rarely saw; only when Arya felt free did she have that look. It was the same when they went riding, or when she escaped her sewing lessons. But it was more than that. Even in the dim light of the candles her niece seemed to _glow_. Her cheeks had the faintest rose tint of a blush which was again caused by something Gendry had said to her, or perhaps it was the look in his eyes. Lyanna couldn't pin it directly, but was that a glimmer of lust she saw in those sapphire depths?

Her mind replayed the scene of Lady Catelyn yelling at Arya. She had screamed and paced in her chambers, her face red with an anger that Lyanna had never seen before. Instantly she had wanted to defend her niece, surely she hadn't done anything so bad to be raged at so much.

"Lady Catelyn, what in the Seven Hells has happened?" She had looked to Arya whose face had a guilty flush and she kept her eyes trained on the floor._  
_

"I just discovered my daughter laid in the dirt beneath Prince Gendry, not moments ago." Lyanna's mouth had dropped. That was a little unseemly even for her niece.

"What were you thinking Arya? Do you know how it looked? He is a prince!" Catelyn screeched._  
_

"We were duelling." Arya said softly, daring a peep at her mother through her long lashes.

"That didn't look like duelling Arya, nor was it sparring or whatever else you call it. In any case you shouldn't be doing it. In the names of the Gods you are a lord's daughter!" She had begun pacing again, her determined strides eating up the distance in the small room. _  
_

"Mother he came to _me_. I was practising alone and then he walked in and-"

"No more excuses Arya."

"I'm not lying I swear it." She was being honest. Arya never lied. But her mother wasn't standing for it.

"And no more duelling or I shall take _Needle_ from you." Arya's eyes had widened in shock. Her most prized possession, her beautiful blade that had been given as a gift was threatened to be taken from her. _  
_

"No!"She yelled in defiance and then gulped, knowing what was at stake. "I won't do it again. I'll behave, I promise. I'll wear dresses and try harder in sewing, and I'll even attend proper dance tutorials. Please don't take _Needle_. Please."

Catelyn had stared down at her for a long time, her Tully eyes dimming as her anger died away. Though Lyanna knew that Arya would keep her promises (and would complain at every opportunity), she wouldn't truthfully give up duelling. She loved it too much. Yet she didn't doubt that her niece would be more cautious and wouldn't get caught again.

Lyanna smiled at the thought and turned to address her father but he wouldn't care either way. He saw Arya as a bargaining tool to create alliances with other houses; just as he had envisioned her to be. She sighed as pushed those unwelcome memories aside, taking in the Great Hall once more.

It was lovely, decorated with Baratheon and Stark banners. The sounds of music and scents of glorious food filled the air. She then inspected the guests who sat at the other tables. Lyanna chuckled to herself as she saw the three girls at the opposite end of the room. Their faces were still a ménage of stunned expressions as they took in Arya and Gendry.

The tallest of the group, Jeyne Poole could only gawk when Arya had entered the Great Hall. Lyanna had laughed when Gendry had passed her without even sparing a glimpse, for his eyes were solely for her niece. Jeyne glared out at the room, watching them carefully as she muttered comments to the shorter girl by her side. She had no idea what the girl was saying though she would have guessed it was something cruel. Lyanna wanted to dare her to speak out, for there was no way that Arya could be called a 'wildling' tonight. She truly was Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Summary: Gendry decides that annoying Arya is his favourite past time.**_

Gendry

"My Prince, I am not sure this is wise, if anything were to happen…" Mikken the Stark's blacksmith protested for the hundredth time.

Gendry had gone to him to ask if he could sharpen the blade of his long-sword for it had dulled considerably on the journey north. To his surprise he found the usually jovial blacksmith not hard at work, but bent double and wheezing, his skin colourless and sheened in sweat. He had run over and helped the large man to a seat.

"Mikken, you are unwell, please go home and rest. Surely Lord Stark would not force you to work when you are sick." The older man shook his head. "Exactly so please-"

"Did you need something My Prince?" He asked gently, his voice almost inaudible as he coughed again.

"Indeed, but it is of little importance."

"What did you require?"

"My sword is blunt and has a few dents in it; I was going to ask if you could straighten it for me." Gendry described in a rush. "But it can wait…"

Then an idea came to his head. Back in Kings Landing he had been an apprentice blacksmith for five years, simply needing something to break up his monotonous life. Though his father had raged for days about the futility of the idea Gendry had done it anyway, loving the creation process, the sing of steel.

He then explained this to Mikken who was wide eyed and staring up at him as though he were mad.

"Actually if you would allow me to use your tools I am sure I can mend it myself."

It took some time but eventually Mikken relented and Gendry had set to work. The forge had soon warmed up, so much so that he had discarded his shirt, the combination of sweat and smoke dirtying his naked skin. He thrust the blade into the fiery coals, waiting as it heated and became soft enough to re-shape. He picked up the hammer once the sword was ready and began hitting the hot metal on the anvil. The noise it made was similar to music, a harmonious rhythm that he alone controlled.

He never realised until now how much he missed working for Tobho Mott back in Kings Landing. He had been a fierce man to work for, but had taught Gendry everything he needed to know and in the end had considered Mott a friend. He sometimes visited the aging man when he had time, and it always amused him to see him sat in a corner grumbling and threatening the new apprentices, saying that even though his sight was fading he could do a better job himself.

Gendry chuckled to himself, flipping the blade over to inspect the other side. There was another dent and he picked up a hammer and began tapping out the uneven surface. With that, the door opened the cold Northern air gusting into the small forge.

"Mikken, I was wondering if you could-" Arya stopped abruptly after noticing it wasn't the timeworn blacksmith who stood before her.

Her silver eyes enlarged as they roamed over his half-clad body and redness seeped into her face. Her eyes darted away from him as she suddenly became very interested in the fur of her cloak. Gendry never thought he would see Lady Ayra Stark embarrassed. He couldn't help but grin at her stricken expression as she tried to compose herself.

"Where's Mikken?" She asked her eyes still large and if he wasn't mistaken, heated.

"He's very unwell, so he's resting. I decided to do the repair work myself." He dipped the blade into the cold water and felt the steam swirl around him.

"I didn't know you were a blacksmith." Arya stated, cocking her head to one side, her eyes regarding him once more.

"Well, I'm full of surprises."

She laughed and stepped further into the forge, her eyes locked on the sword in his hands. He was surprised to see her in a dark grey dress and a fur lined cloak, knowing she preferred shirts and pants. He liked seeing her in a gown. The colour of it too seemed to make her eyes shimmer brilliantly. She seemed to notice his stare and curtsied in the manner she was taught. It was his turn to chuckle.

She came right up beside him and nodded towards the metal in his hands.

"Did you make that?" Arya asked softly.

"Yes when I was living in Kings Landing." He replied, his voice for some reason husky. Maybe it was the thick air drying his throat. Or maybe it was because of how close she was, her floral rose scent enveloping him in a different kind of heat.

"It's good work."

"Did Arya Stark just pay a compliment?" He joked and she scowled up at him.

"I'm allowed to praise fine craftsmanship when I see it stupid." Arya snapped.

"So why is it you never accept compliments from others?" He asked her, watching her face carefully. She thought for a moment before replying.

"Because they're not true, I don't know why people even bother to speak such things to me at times."

"What things do people say?" He also wanted to add 'who says it?' But he didn't.

"I was once called 'stunning' by Lyanna." Arya sneered the word. "I don't know why she said that. I'm not." Gendry really wanted to argue with her but it would be a pointless argument. She refused to see herself as others did.

"So what are you doing here my lady?" He questioned, breaking the awkward silence that surrounded them.

"Do not call me m'lady." Arya scolded, her teeth gritting. He knew it was wrong of him but he wanted to call her it again. He had found that teasing her like this was quite entertaining. "Don't you _dare_." She threatened as if reading his mind.

He bowed his head respectfully, feeling his hair fall into his eyes.

"As milady commands." She shoved him in the chest and he stumbled back trying not to smirk. "That wasn't very ladylike." This time she whacked him twice on the arm. "Ow." Truthfully it didn't hurt all that much but she looked like she was going to do it again even harder. He decided just then that teasing her was fun even if she did hit him.

"Arya are you beating Prince Gendry?" Jon asked from behind her, his stormy grey eyes laughing.

"Yes."

"Why?" He asked, fighting a smile.

"Because he's annoying and stupid and he earned it." She snapped, turning to face her cousin. She folded her arms across her chest as Jon approached.

"What are you two doing anyway, besides irritating one another?" He asked them, eyes scanning them both before landing suspiciously on Gendry's shirtless form.

"He's fixing his sword because he's awful at swordplay. I wanted to ask Mikken something but he's not here; apparently he's really ill." Arya finished with a sigh. "Why are _you_ here?" She asked whilst stroking Ghost's thick white fur.

"I was looking for you. Lady Catelyn is asking for you." He answered and she groaned, her shoulders slumping a little. "You should get going Arya, she's not very happy with you at the moment." Arya nodded but turned to Gendry before she left.

"See you later?" He nodded and she left. His gaze went to Jon who smiled.

"Be thankful I found you and she didn't."

"Believe me, I am." Lady Catelyn wasn't pleased with him at the moment, thinking that both he, Jon and Lyanna were all having a very negative effect on her youngest daughter. He dreaded how she would have reacted if she had found him and Arya again; especially as he was dressed less than appropriately for a prince.

"What do you think of Arya?" Jon asked, his eyes watching Gendry's expression.

"Well you didn't exaggerate, she's certainly defiant." He answered pulling on the shirt he had discarded.

"And fearless." Jon added.

"And mischievous and wilful and by the Gods I don't think I've ever met anyone so stubborn." Jon tittered at him, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh I don't know, I can think of someone just as bad." He nodded towards Gendry. They laughed together as he finished off the sword and placed the tools back to where he found them. "Tell me though; is she what you expected, after listening to my stories?" Jon sat on the workbench and patted Ghosts large head. Gendry thought for a moment.

"Honestly, I don't know. She's just what you described and so much more."

"How so?"

"She's not only those things but she…" Gendry had considerable trouble thinking of the right words to describe Arya and how he felt about her. "She challenges me, irritates me, laughs at me, she mocks me, she confides-"

Jon rose from the bench and patted him on the shoulder. He smiled at his friend.

"Glad to hear it." Jon stated and left, Ghost silently following him out of the forge leaving him with his thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Summary: Jon realises he has some persuading to do.**_

Jon

Jon found himself in the courtyard, watching Bran once again get told off by Lady Catelyn for climbing. Bran looked so much like Arya right now. Slightly ashamed and annoyed for getting caught - again. And like his sister, he promised he wouldn't do it anymore. Whether he meant climb or get caught, Jon wasn't sure; though he'd guess the latter.

Once again he felt Ghost's blood-red eyes staring up at him. Without looking away from Bran he reached down and patted the direwolf on the head. The creature was being pensive and quiet, reflecting his own mood perfectly. He had thought about Arya and Gendry almost constantly for the past two days. Their friendship was growing, it was easy to see. At first he hadn't thought it was possible. Yet it appeared that she was rapidly warming to the prince. It was obvious that Gendry encourged the wildness within his cousin, and she was getting in more trouble for it.

It had made him chuckle the other day when he had found them in the forge. Jon had known Gendry had been a blacksmith's apprentice and seeing him shirtless wasn't uncommon; especially in the heat of Kings Landing. He was a good worker and it hadn't surprised Jon in the least that his friend decided to do the repair himself. However he hadn't expected to see Arya there.

He hadn't missed the exchange of glances between them either.

Gendry looked at Arya as if she were the only thing in front of him, despite the fact she had just punched him in the arm. Twice. He obviously wasn't blind to Jon's cousin. He was captivated by her and she didn't realise it. She probably didn't even know that Gendry saw her like that. Although she didn't seem entirely unaware of him. She had seen his naked chest and looked away in embarrassment, her heated eyes looking everywhere but at him. He had also heard Gendry laugh as he teased her, calling Arya "My Lady" in that tone she hated. It was no wonder she had hit him really. Gendry had obviously taken Jon's advice on teasing and annoying her to another level. Jon sniggered, remembering her scowl as she had turned fuming eyes to her cousin.

He had waited outside, allowing them to have a moment until she had assaulted him. Once Arya had done that he stepped in, not wanting Gendry to have anything broken. Though he supposed if she posed any threat his friend could deal with it. He would probably just pin her again. It had worked once.

Jon almost pitied Lady Catelyn for finding them that night. She would probably be even more determined to make Arya act accordingly.

He sighed, wishing that his aunt could just love Arya for who she was. She wasn't proper and ladylike. She didn't do her duty because it was required of her. Arya wasn't like her sister Sansa. Although she _was_ beautiful and could make lord's heads turn - much to his irritation. He hated when they looked at Arya like that (even though he knew why they did). He had also heard people compare his cousin to his mother, Lady Lyanna.

They said that she "had the same silver wolf eyes and the same dark hair and even had the same smile".

His uncle Ned thought so too. Especially when Arya was told off for something.

He said that it was "like re-living his youth, having to put up with the same behaviour."

But unlike Catelyn, Ned hardly ever became angry. He loved Arya too much. His uncle respected her for who she was. It didn't hurt that she was a Stark and not a Tully in looks either.

Jon wished that Arya wasn't betrothed. No way did he want her to marry Elmar Waldron Frey. She would be dragged away from all the people who loved her, from her home. She would be forced to say the vows in a Sept of the Seven. To say words that were meaningless to her in front of Gods she didn't believe in. He couldn't imagine Elmar showing her any comfort or mercy in their marriage either. Though Arya was strong and wilful, even a wolf could be broken. And Jon had no worries believing that she would be. A lone wolf could be killed easily so far away from her pack.

He knew why his grandfather wanted to establish a union with the Frey's. They held the power of the Twins and would be useful if another war should erupt. However, no matter how much he saw the necessity of having the alliance with House Frey, he wished it wasn't Arya that Rickard was bargaining.

Jon loved her like a little sister and he wanted to look out for her. Which he was determined to do. He needed to get Gendry more time. It was the reason why he had come all this way in the first place. He had always loved his stories of Arya and in the end he had wanted to meet her desperately.

It meant that he would have to speak to Lord Stark.

A lot of persuasion was going to be needed. Lord Rickard didn't change his mind easily.

* * *

Lyanna

Lyanna glanced up from her book to see Jon coming into the library. She smiled up at her son, seeing the fierce glimmer of determination in his grey eyes. She knew that look all too well.

"Are you looking for Arya?" She asked, wanting to see his face once she told him that his favourite cousin was with Gendry. Again.

"No, I was actually trying to find Lord Rickard. I thought he would be in here." Her son frowned deeply.

"Truthfully I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him since this morning. What do you need him for?"

"I just need to talk to him." Lyanna sighed heavily and closed the book in her lap. She knew what he wanted to speak to her father about. Arya and Elmar's betrothal. "Jon, you know how stubborn Lord Stark is. He wants this marriage to go ahead, and as much as I hate to say this, it probably will." In fact she knew it would, unless Gendry spoke to her father.

"Gendry just needs some more time." Jon answered desperately. "He's only been here a few weeks."

"The Frey boy will arrive within less than a month Jon." Lyanna warned. She had overheard her father speaking to Ned only yesterday. Talking about preparations. It had taken all of her willpower not to barge in and scream at them.

"A month?" He repeated, stormy eyes widening. She hated to give him such news as the last month had been such a good one.

Arya and Gendry had become much closer, their friendship only strengthening as time passed. It appeared that he appreciated the wolf within her more than she or Jon ever had. He spoke to her no differently than her brothers did. Lyanna was certain that was a request from Arya. She had never liked being treated differently. It also seemed that Gendry annoyed her as much as anything. Jon had told her of Arya's fists beating at the Prince. Only Arya would ever act in such a way. And it appeared that only _he _would allow her to do so. She wondered again for the hundredth time how Arya felt towards Gendry. Was she as infatuated with him as he was with her?

"Surely an alliance with House Baratheon is better than one with the Freys?" Her son asked breaking into her reverie. He leaned forward, his eyes now dark and intense as he waited for a response.

She wanted to agree with Jon on that point. There had been a rift between their houses since Lyanna had rejected Robert's betrothal. A choice that she did not regret at all, yet had left an awkwardness between them. Ned had remained friends with the King but he did not trust his judgement anymore. He hadn't since Cersei had become Queen.

Cersei Lannister hated Ned and Lyanna with a passion. Her brother had been too honest and too honourable for Cersei to ever be comfortable around. And she had always been compared to Lyanna whenever Robert became drunk; which was often. She didn't blame the Queen for her dislike of them really. Her marriage had never been a happy one to Robert.

"I would say yes to you Jon, but I don't know how Lord Rickard will react." To say that her lord father was stubborn was an understatement. _I got the wolf blood from him. _Lyanna thought to herself. "But I will go with you if you wish."

"Thank you." He said softly, eyes warming at her. She smiled at him and rose heading for her father's chambers.

* * *

They arrived at his place in a matter of moments and it was clear to Lyanna that he knew why they were there. Lord Stark of Winterfell already knew what they were going to say.

"No. A treaty must be made with House Frey." Her father growled again. They had been aquarrelling for some time now.

She knelt by his side so she could look up at him.

"Father please. Jon is right. House Baratheon is far stronger and rules the Seven Kingdoms. If Arya married Prince Gendry, she would become queen someday." She proposed, taking his aged hand in her own. She frowned feeling the once warm steady fingers now brittle and cold. Sighing she covered him in another fur throw. She hadn't realised until now how sick he actually was. _The old wolf is dying. _Lyanna realised, blinking away tears. She tightened her grip on him. "But none of this can happen unless you and Ned allow it." She finished, speaking softly.

Lyanna felt awful for saying such a thing when she didn't even know how Arya felt about Gendry. But she wouldn't allow her niece to marry Elmar Frey. Surely it was better for Arya to be betrothed to a man who was smitten with her, rather than a boy who only cared about politics. A boy who only cared what benefits their marriage would give him. That was all Elmar wanted.

"It has already been arranged Lya." Rickard mumbled as his eyes hardened. He wasn't going to be budged lightly. "Surely _you _of all people understand the importance of that."

"Do you want her to marry that little tyrant My Lord?" Jon asked, his voice layered with anger. She noticed that Lord Rickard didn't look particularly plesaed about it. She saw the flash of discomfort in those slate grey eyes.

"Give her a choice." Lyanna replied quickly, feeling her eyes widen as she spoke her thoughts. Her father hadn't been at all happy when Robert had asked for Lyanna's hand in marriage. So he had given her a choice whether she wished to decline or not. Perhaps it wasn't as honourable as the Starks were meant to be, but in her youth Lord Rickard had been kinder. He knew the life she would have had.

"The same choice you had? No. I will not. You were my daughter. It was different." Lyanna didn't see how it was different, but she didn't argue.

"Then give her a choice of suitors. Allow time for someone else to come forward and ask Arya for her hand."

For a long time her father didn't respond. He just stared out of the window, seeing his granddaughter in the courtyard below. She was laughing at Gendry as they dismounted their horses. It was then Gendry crowded her against the horse, probably trying to appear menacing. It didn't work. It just caused her niece to laugh harder. It was then he reached out and gently tucked a lock of loose hair behind her ear. Her smile softened as she gazed up at him and Lyanna saw her father's expression change.

"Very well. Arya will have another fourteen days. If no one else comes forward then her engagement to the Frey will be fulfilled."

"I have your word?"

"I give you my word." Rickard said clearly, staring down at her. Jon looked as though he were going to argue for more time but Lyanna silenced him with a shake of her head.

"Thank you." Lyanna beamed and kissed her father on the cheek. She couldn't belive he had actually relented. Two more weeks was plenty of time for Gendry to decide whether he wanted Arya for his wife, and hopefully it was enough time for Arya too.

She prayed to the Gods that everything went smoothly.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Summary: An unexpected arrival causes trouble in Winterfell. _ **

Gendry

Gendry found that he was eager to battle Arya again even though she had beaten him twice this night already.

The rain hadn't stopped for two days now, mercilessly pounding over the whole North, covering the land in a grey mist. The sky above them thundered, causing the earth to shake, but all of his focus was on the girl in front of him. He knew how she would take him down this time and he fully intended to defeat _her_. He anticipated her moves and luckily he was right, by moving the opposite way that she had expected Gendry was able to use his weight against her and knock her to the hard ground. She lost _Needle _as she rolled over panting. He used her brief distraction to his benefit pouncing on top of her stunned body.

Unfortunately she saw him coming and careened out of the way so that he couldn't pin her down. She laughed at his stunned expression as she grabbed _Needle _and stood resting the cold edge of the metal against the back of his neck. He dropped his sword and sighed.

"I yield."

"That is because you are a terrible swordsman." Arya chuckled removing the blade.

When he stood he was ashamed to note that his legs were trembling. But it wasn't from fatigue though he and Arya had been exercising since after the feast, which was hours ago. He had been pressed, shoved, hit, kicked and his body was exhausted, but he refused to show it. Gendry knew that she had been through all this and possibly worse too; so if she could survive he knew he could.

His gaze sought her out and what he saw had his blood boiling. She had removed her outer clothes some time ago, as she claimed they slowed her down and made her clumsy. The black shirt and pants that she had changed into were soaked through from the rain and clung to her like a second skin. It left nothing about her body to the imagination. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck as he glanced away, trying not to appreciate the curve of her hips or the slender line of her thighs.

She appeared as delicate as a winter rose yet he knew the deadliness of Arya Stark.

"Gendry," She asked her voice full of uncertainty as she frowned at him. He liked it when she said his name. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He replied, looking at her face and not her body. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"You are a really bad liar." She commented before stepping closer to him. He continued to look into those gleaming silver eyes, seeing how her wet plaited hair flattened to her head as it came out of its braid. Water dripped from the blood red Weirwood leaves and onto her face as she came closer still. Soon he could feel her body heat shrouding him in a wash of something he had never felt before; longing.

His father had never been an affectionate man with either of his queens but had shared his lust with plenty of women. Sometimes Gendry wondered how many bastard brothers and sisters he actually had throughout the Seven Kingdoms. He was pleased that he was different, though King Robert Baratheon didn't wish to acknowledge this. Sometimes Gendry had even returned to his chambers to find whores waiting for him. His father's "gift" as Robert liked to call it. Gendry hated it. He hated the fact that his father pushed and pushed, but when he had turned to his King to ask for marriage blessing, Robert had almost dismissed him.

Suddenly a warm hand cupped his jaw and he snapped his eyes back open, not realising that he had closed them and was clenching his fists by his side until he looked into Arya's beautiful face. Her eyes were tender, emotions swimming in the silver depths. Tentatively he reached up and took her hand in his before bringing it to his mouth. She gasped as his lips pressed to the sensitive skin on her wrist. He could feel her pulse point pounding under his touch. He wondered if it always raced when he touched her.

She pressed closer until she was directly under him, her head tilted upwards and his was bent down. His arms came around her, gently so gently. Arya was watching him cautiously. She bit her bottom lip with nerves. He smiled at her, reassuring without words that she was going to be alright. Slowly he lowered his face to hers, their breaths mingling. He meant for his mouth to touch hers ever so lightly, a mere brush of lips, but he didn't even get that.

Rather the thundering of horses hooves warned them of riders approaching. Gendry grumbled inwardly before he turned, feeling Arya stiffen in his arms. Instantly he frowned at the man who dismounted a black stallion, his dark cloak pushed back to reveal his features. The boy was a year or two younger than Gendry with cold grey eyes and shoulder length blonde hair. His face was pale and drawn, his cheeks sharp and long. His mouth was a flat line, and Gendry could imagine it sneering with malice. He strode towards them, a fierce determination in his steps as he turned his angered eyes to Gendry. Instantly he pushed Arya behind him, shielding her with his body.

"I don't know who you are boy, but get your hands off of _my_ lady!" He screamed before stopping just before Gendry. When he didn't move nor flinch, the boy unsheathed his long sword, aiming the sharpened tip at Gendry's stomach. He felt Arya reach for _Needle _at her hips, her hand gripping his tightly. He squeezed back. Gendry said nothing as the pale eyes threatened and seethed, waiting for the boy to finish ranting and threatening.

"Move out of the way now boy." The boy said cruelly, his eyes roaming over Gendry and then over Arya, hardening but also heating. Gendry suddenly felt hot with anger, a rage even. No-one should ever look at her like that, no-one but him. It probably wasn't the best thing that he felt so strongly towards her, unknowing how she felt about him in return, yet he couldn't help it.

He straightened to his full height and turned to the boy in front of him.

"I am Prince Gendry of House Baratheon, heir to the Iron Throne and Seven Kingdoms. You _will_ address me by my proper title." At the end Gendry's tone became low and menacing.

The boy's eyes widened in surprise and then inspected Gendry seeing his thick black hair, golden skin and blue eyes that burned. He saw the sigil of the Baratheon stag on Gendry's chest. Suddenly he sank to one knee and the soldiers did too. He bowed his head and Gendry could see him shaking.

"My Prince, I apologise, I had no idea it was you." The boy stammered, seemingly at a loss for words as he absorbed his new lowly position. He then turned his eyes to Arya but this time in disapproval. "My Lady you_ must_ bow to the Prince." His words rang of command. A command that she did not heed as Gendry turned to her.

He smiled, rubbing circles into her hand with his thumb. She smiled gently upat him, some of her tenseness leaving her locked muscles. Her grip on _Needle _relaxed as she stepped forward to address the boy in the mud.

"Lord Elmar Waldron Frey what brings you to Winterfell?" She asked him, her tone like steel but he laughed. It wasn't a particularly nice sound. It was one that held smugness, as if he knew something she did not.

"To ask your grandfather Lord Rickard Stark and your father if they have yet given his blessings on our betrothal."

* * *

Arya

Arya felt the words like a blow to the stomach.

The air left her body in a whoosh as she felt a wave of betrayal as she studied the man before her. Elmar Frey was a cruel, ambitious boy with a fierce temper to anyone who didn't obey him. The word "betrothal" scared her, knowing that her family had arranged for her to marry such a person. Waves of hurt crashed through her as her heart squeezed painfully.

Gendry turned to look back down on her his blue eyes wide and shocked. She was sure her expression met his as he roamed her face seeing how her tears mingled with the rain. Suddenly his jaw locked and he brought her hand to his lips again moving in a way that Elmar wouldn't see. The press was soft and sweet and it made her ache even more.

Arya had come to feel for Gendry over the past month, his wit and character coming to both irritate and amuse her. She hated the thought of not being able to see him, not being able to feel hot and shivery whenever she was close to him. She didn't want to lose him, not now. She wondered how long her family had had this prepared. She was going to be shipped off, married to the Frey boy and forced to be his lady. Arya didn't know how she managed to stop herself from screaming. She wanted to run away back to Braavos, run and never look back.

Gendry was the one to break the awful silence.

"Since when have you been betrothed to Lady Arya?" His voice was all politeness yet there was a stern demand for an answer. Arya was pleased he had never spoken to her like that.

"For years My Prince, yet it is only now that her grandfather has truly consented." The Frey replied, and she knew he was lying. Surely her Aunt Lyanna wouldn't keep that from her for _years_. No. She decided a moment later. He was lying.

He got to his feet and came forward, his eyes solely on Arya. Her reflex was to reach for _Needle _but she knew that Gendry wouldn't allow him to harm her. So instead she tightened her grip on his hand. He returned it, letting her know she was safe. Elmar's coal eyes were dark and heated as they roamed over her body, lingering on certain areas. She felt uncomfortable under his stare and she couldn't help the emotions that flooded her. Finally they landed on her face and she saw anger spark in the depths of those eyes.

"I do hope you do not always look at me like that My Lady, for I fear we shall have a problem." He laughed heartily as though his threat was merely a jest, yet she knew he was _now _telling the truth. He continued to glare at her and she couldn't form words to reply to him.  
"Oh my love, you wound me with your silence. Say something please."

Determined to grasp a control of her fear Arya dropped Gendry's hand and stepped around him, though she ensured that he remained close. She looked up into the Frey's oily eyes and curtsied in the manner that she was taught.

"My Lord." He seemed very pleased and bowed low offering his hand in the dark. She desperately didn't want to take it.

"Arya!" All three of them swung around to see her Aunt Lyanna galloping on her horse. Her eyes were so frightened that Arya felt a twinge of guilt. She hadn't told anyone where she was. They were probably looking for her. Lyanna dismantled gracefully before pulling her into a fierce hug.

"By the Gods we were looking all over for you!" She kissed her forehead and nodded to Gendry, a thank you most likely for keeping her out of trouble. "Your Grace, I-"

"Lady Lyanna it's wonderful to finally meet you." Elmar spoke clearly despite wiping the rain from his eyes. Lyanna's face changed in a matter of seconds as she took him in. Her eyes widened and anxiety replaced her relief.

"Lord Frey, we were not expecting you for another month." The words rang in Arya's ears painfully and again she wondered when her family was going to tell her of her betrothal. She staggered back before feeling strong warm hands on her shoulders steadying her. Gendry's fingers ran along her skin and she felt warm again. For a moment the fear knotting her stomach slackened.

"Yes, I do believe that my betrothed was not informed of the arrangement – judging by her expression." Elmar laughed as Lyanna sighed, her silver eyes filled with grief.

"That is correct, but it has been a busy month here in Winterfell with my lord father being unwell."

"Yes I heard, it is quite unfortunate." He replied, no remorse in his voice to accompany his words. He smiled before continuing. "Yet at least there are celebrations to organise and rejoice." Elmar's eyes flashed to her and Arya saw a heat so strong that she felt burnt. Gendry's large hands tightened their grip on her slender frame though she didn't know why. Had he seen the Frey's lustful glance too?

"Indeed." Arya caught something in her aunt's eyes as she looked between her and Gendry. For a moment it looked like hope. "But first I must take my niece to her chambers; it has been a long night. Perhaps on the morrow you can be introduced properly. I know my father will honour you with a feast." She said taking her from Gendry and making her climb on her horse.

With a longing glance at Gendry who was soaked and shocked, Arya turned the steed back towards Winterfell. Soon enough she heard her aunt coming up beside her. Her anger returned in full force as she glared into eyes so similar to her own.

"Arya, I am so sorry sweetheart. I didn't know he was coming so soon."

"But you knew I'm _betrothed _to him?!" Arya yelled, needing an answer.

"Yes. I asked Lord Rickard to give you a choice-" Lyanna started but Arya interrupted her.

"You didn't tell me!" She shrieked, kicking her horse to run faster. The steed complied but Lyanna easily kept up.

"I was hoping that I wouldn't have to." Her aunt's eyes pleaded. "I was hoping that another suitor would come along Arya, I swear to the Gods." Arya sighed, knowing her aunt was being honest.

"But no one else has come along." She said dejectedly. She wanted to add "and no-one will" but she couldn't make her voice work. Her aunt leaned close to her, a secret smile on her lips.

"That may not be true darling. I'd give it some time, you may be surprised who your admirer is." With that Lyanna rode off, her horse flicking up sodden ground as she sped ahead. Arya slowed her stallion into a slow trot, wondering about Lyanna's words.

Did she mean Gendry?


	10. Chapter 10

_**Summary: More than one person becomes jealous.  
**_

Gendry

Gendry watched as Arya and her aunt had ridden off towards Winterfell, leaving him stood in the rain with her betrothed. His heart had sunk when the boy had said that word. "Betrothal". He maybe thought Arya had known about this but her lovely silver eyes had completely filled with horror. He had known then that she had nothing to do with the arrangement. She had stepped back away from the Frey in astonishment, her chewed bottom lip quivered. He had read her thoughts easily. She was going to be taken away, frightened and alone while he compelled her to his will. His cruel laugh had made her shudder and he knew what the boy had done in his past. Not to his enemies but to his own family.

There was no doubt in Gendry's mind that Arya had heard what the Frey was capable of and was worried of a repeated history. Frey's were by nature untrustworthy and conspirators known only to side after a battle was won. Suddenly things made sense in Gendry's mind. Lady Catelyn's behaviour storming out of the hall, her aunt Lyanna becoming angry with her father…

He shook his head trying to gather himself and walked away from the Frey. If he didn't he may do something stupid. Besides, he had a purpose here and it was past time it was carried out. As he made his way to the great fortress of Winterfell, Gendry considered the best ways to approach Lord Rickard, Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn.

He hated that he had waited so long, but he had lost track of time. He had spent his every waking moment with Arya; getting to know her, learning her fears, hearing her dreams, sparring and duelling with her in secret. He loved her. Gendry had known deep down for a while.

It was the reason he had come to the North in the first place. He had always been intrigued with Jon's stories and tales, but one in particular had eternally dominated his thoughts for the past ten years. It was his best friend telling him tales of his favourite baby cousin Arya. Before he had arrived, Gendry felt as though he had known the girl for years and he hadn't even laid eyes on her at that point.

He had loved the stories of her fighting and arguing with her parents, stealing Jon's horse to race Bran, melting all of her sewing needles in the forge, trying to burn the dresses that Sansa had made for her. He had laughed at all of them, needing to hear more.

Jon knew of Gendry's growing affection for Arya, as did his mother Lady Lyanna, for it was them that insisted he visit. Now he was here with her and she was going to be taken from him.

Again he felt his fists clench on the reins of the steed. He knew that Arya never showed fear but when she had seen Lord Elmar Waldron Frey she had almost bolted for the trees. He entered the stables, dismounting the horse when Jon came scurrying inside. His dark curled hair hung around his pale face. Gendry frowned.

"Have you heard?" Jon asked, his breath panting slightly.

"Yes. I was there. I heard." He replied, his tone curt.

"Now is the time Gendry. You love her. I know you do." Jon puffed, his breath coming out in a white mist.

"It's too late. It has been arranged Jon." Gendry turned to his dear friend, his expression stricken.

"No its not, that's what I came to tell you." Jon smiled and stepped forward a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "My mother begged Lord Rickard that Arya be given a choice. Not a choice to decline the marriage, but a choice of suitors." His pale grey eyes flashed with hope as a grin stretched across his face. For a moment Gendry couldn't think. Was this really happening?

"Do you really think Arya would choose me?" He asked. Jon laughed at him as if he were being ridiculous.

"Of course she will!"

"I'm not so sure, I haven't been here that long." Truthfully, he had no idea how Arya felt towards him. He didn't even know if she would have let him kiss her. He shouldn't have tried to, but she had just looked so beautiful.

"Gendry have you seen the Frey? He's pathetic."

"The boy is a tyrant." Gendry responded, taking the reins and saddle off the horse.

"Yes exactly. He would break Arya." At the end, Jon's voice became grave and fearful. He couldn't bare the idea that Arya would be worse than beaten and raped too if she was made to marry the Frey. Gendry straightened up and squared his shoulders knowing that at first light he was going to offer his proposal to Lord Rickard and Arya's family.

* * *

As it had turned out Lord Rickard wasn't any better and had remained inside his chambers all day. So Gendry wasn't able to offer the betrothal.

He didn't mind all that much as it left him the day to do whatever he liked. Again he decided to spend it with Arya. She thought that Rickon needed more tutoring. However unlike yesterday, she was in a lovely blue gown; much to her irritation. She complained about it constantly getting in the way as she moved around her little brother. He and Bran just laughed.

"For once you look like a lady Arya." Bran had sniggered and she had shot him a warning look. He hadn't stop teasing her about it though. "You even look more like aunt Lyanna today with your hair done nicely and-"

"Shut up. Stupid Septa Mordane ambushed me." Arya growled under her breath and Gendry chuckled. "You think this is funny do you?" She snapped, turning to glare at him. He leaned back against a post and folded his arms. The picture of ease as she her eyes fumed at him. Gendry was about to reply with a 'yes My Lady' as Rickon hit the target close to the centre. He spun and beamed at them. Gendry clapped and smiled at the little lord. Shaggydog barked from his bed of straw as if showing his support.

"Well done Rickon." Bran said softly before releasing his own arrow. It whooshed over the top and stuck into the stone wall behind it. Arya snickered, trying to fight a smile as she bent to stroke Nymeria. "Damn it."

"Do you want me to help you?"

"No."

"Tough I'm going to anyway." She walked past Gendry to grab herself a bow from the armoury. It was long and elegantly curved with intricate wolf carvings near the centre. "Lyanna gave it to me for my sixteenth name-day." Arya said gently, noticing his stare.

"Do your family members have a particular reason for giving you weapons for your name-days?" He asked.

"They know it will serve more good than showering me with trinkets like they did with Sansa. Besides it is only my aunt and cousin that ever had. No-one else approved." Arya rolled her eyes and turned away from him, lining up with Bran who again, missed the target completely.

"Gods, no wonder you can't hit it! Look at how you're standing." Arya tutted and helped Bran get into the right position. "Relax your arm and loosen your grip… good now try it." He concentrated for a moment then the arrow hit the target. "I told you so."

She laughed at her brother, the lovely sound echoing and Gendry grinned, enjoying the sound. He didn't miss the looks that the men of Winterfell gave her either. Appreciation shone in the depths of their eyes as they gazed at her, seeing maybe for the first time how beautiful she was. He was surprised to feel a twinge of anger as he saw some their eyes look more than appreciative.

"Why can't you be like other girls?" Her brother grumbled, lowering his bow to look at Arya who just smirked. Both were oblivious to the staring men around them.

"Don't be stupid Bran; you wouldn't want me to be like them. Besides, Meera Reed isn't particularly ladylike and you never say such things to her." Bran's face heated as he blushed a deep red.

"Shut up Arya." It was the last thing he said before he stopped teasing his sister. A look of smug satisfaction crossed her face. Rickon put his bow down and went up to Arya pulling on her sleeve.

"Can you teach me sword play now?" She smiled at him and crouched.

"I can't, because I'm dressed for it, but I'm sure Gendry wouldn't mind." With that the little lord came over to where he was stood.

"Your Grace will you practise with me?" He asked politely and grinned as Gendry ruffled the boys auburn hair.

"Of course I will." He took the wooden blade from Arya and she handed a shorter one to Rickon. She took hold of Gendry's arm and leaned into him.

"Be gentle with him." She whispered softly, her eyes darting to her brother as he took up a stance opposite. He nodded. He would never hurt six year old Rickon, nor would he use any of his strength against the youngest Stark.

As she slipped past him he took hold of her hand, bringing it to the warmth of his mouth. He pressed a kiss to the soft skin. She smiled tenderly at him before stepping back to her brother.

"Rickon, remember what I told you before today. Know what is around you and be careful with your footing." She instructed and he nodded enthusiastically. His bright blue eyes gleamed with love as he gazed up at his sister.

She kissed him on the top of his head and stepped back allowing them enough room for them to circle one another.

* * *

Arya

Arya watched with pride as Rickon fought Gendry. Though he was young, he was stubbornly determined. He was fast too but severely inexperienced which made him clumsy. Whenever he made a mistake or stumbled, Gendry would help him up or tell him where he was going wrong. She had asked him to be gentle with her brother and he was obviously obliging. Arya was certain that within the years to come Rickon would become a fierce swordsman. Perhaps even a knight like Bran wanted to be.

"Is Prince Gendry fighting your brother?"

"He's teaching him." Arya corrected, seeing Jeyne Poole come up to stand next to her.

She had never liked the girl though she had been good friends with Sansa. She was too annoying for Arya to bear longer than a few minutes. She glanced at the girl, seeing again how she wore her hair in the Southern style. It was pinned and elegantly coiled on her head and Arya wondered who had done it for her. She was only the daughter of a steward after all and didn't have handmaids; not that it mattered.

Arya wondered if she was trying to impress Gendry who again, paid her no attention at all. Once more he knelt down to explain something to Rickon who frowned and looked lost. Arya quickly stepped forward. She knew that look.

"I think that's enough for today." She said, taking the sword from her brother's hands. His blue eyes were fatigued. If Rickon continued any longer he would become grumpy and bad-tempered. Luckily Arya knew when to stop her brother before he reached breaking point.

"Thank the Gods; Lord Rickon was starting to wear me out." Gendry's sapphire eyes were playful. He wasn't worn out at all.

"No Arya, I'm alright and I want to beat-" The little lord yawned, cutting off whatever protest he was about to give.

"There is always tomorrow Rickon. I'm not going anywhere." Gendry said softly. "Besides I need my strength to battle your sister." Arya chuckled and turned to see Bran coming towards them.

"I'll take him Arya." He offered and towed their brother away to the main castle. He would be fine later once he had eaten and gained some rest. No doubt he would be a bundle of energy tonight at dinner. She turned to Gendry and smiled.

"How do you keep up with him?" He asked sounding slightly drained.

She was about to reply when Jeyne was suddenly there, her presence irritating Arya in a way she had never felt before. She didn't like her being so close to Gendry. It probably wasn't right to feel so angry in such an innocent situation, they were only talking. Yet she saw the way Jeyne's eyes roamed over him slowly, lingering on his mouth. Arya had never really looked at boys in that way and they had returned the favour. So Arya didn't know why she felt so strongly about Gendry. Perhaps it was because of the way he had pinned her beneath him, the way he had _almost _kissed in the Godswood.

Her hands clenched at the memory. She was frustrated with herself for wanting to be kissed by him and annoyed at Elmar for interrupting. And now she was mad at Gendry for talking to someone else. _Gods what's wrong with me? _Arya asked herself. She couldn't focus on anything today, hence why she had refused to teach Rickon. It wasn't her dress. She didn't care about ruining it at all like she had pretended. It was Gendry's fault. _Stupid Prince. _She thought again, looking up at him. _Stupid with his handsomeness and irritating charm. __He's a stupid bull-headed boy._  


Arya wasn't paying attention to their conversation as she excused herself and headed for the Weirwood tree, the only thing that gave her solace when she had nowhere else to go. She made it without fuss, allowing Nymeria to curl at her feet as she sat beneath the blood red leaves. It was lovely under the trees, their soft rustling as the wind blew through them. The muted sunlight shone through the gaps, causing beams of light to hit the forest floor.

The water in front of her rolled slightly with the light breeze and she turned her eyes to the bleeding red face in the tree. Its empty eyes stared back at her, unfazed and untouched by time. It was almost surprising to think that the face used to scare her as a child. Now all she felt was a calm spreading through her as she looked at it, a peace.

She wasn't sure what to ask the Old Gods as she had so many questions buzzing in her head. But she didn't need to. She was sure that they could sense her inner turmoil and were answering her with the gentle noises of the wood. She now understood why her father came here so often when he needed to think. Nothing could compare to it. Here she could be free to show any emotion she liked without the fear of being yelled at or judged. She could scream or cry or laugh and the Old Gods would let her.

Arya pressed back into a tree beside the pond and continued to gaze at the face feeling Nymeria lounge on the ground next to her. Absently she stroked the thick fur and let her eyes drift close.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Summary: Arya experiences something new.  
**_

Gendry

After eventually ridding himself of Jeyne Poole, Gendry went in search of Arya. He had seen her silently rage when the other girl had come over, her eyes examining him as she stood close to him. He hadn't wanted Arya to leave him but it had been the only gracious thing to do. He didn't want to make a scene and embarrass her.

Gendry really hadn't listened to a word that the other girl had said apart from "How are you finding Winterfell?"

After that everything she said had been a vague noise in the background. He had barely noticed when another girl had joined them. It was rude of him and he knew that, but he couldn't help it. It wasn't as though she wasn't pretty, she was but she held no interest for him at all. She was filled with boring talk and empty opinions _until_ she spoke of Arya. He turned to look at her. Jeyne had gotten so worked up in talking to him, she forgot her place. She completely overlooked who she was talking to.

"…as if Lady Wildling could compare to any of-" She had stopped suddenly after spotting the anger in his eyes. His fury was overwhelming as he looked down at both girls. How dare they speak of her like that?

"Is that how you speak to your lady?" He snapped as he glared down at her. She looked to the other girl for support yet she remained quiet. Smart girl. When Jeyne failed to speak, Gendry continued. "Why do you call her such things?"

"Well we, I um, she always used to wear boys clothes and get filthy. She was never like Lady Sansa."

"How do you mean?" He retorted, capturing her startled hazel eyes.

"Lady Arya was never proper or acted like a lady and she was never… pretty."

"No, you're quite right. Lady Arya isn't pretty." Both girls shared a look of amusement; though it was short lived. "She's beautiful." With that their smug grins died. "And as of proper, well I ask what do you know of lady behaviour? Do you honestly think that name-calling is appropriate?"

"Forgive me Your Grace." She laughed nervously.

"If I ever hear you speak of her in that way again-" Her dark eyes widened as she shook her head.

"You shall not My Prince." The other girl piped in.

"I, I apologise." Jeyne replied in a broken voice. For a second Gendry thought that he saw a small light of fear in their eyes. _Good. _He thought.

"It is not me to whom you should be apologising." Gendry said in a displeased tone and she bowed her head in shame. "Excuse me." She had released a breath as he walked away towards the Godswood.

He hated speaking to people like that, but he hadn't been able to hold his tongue any longer. Arya could hold her own when confronted to be sure, yet it didn't stop them talking about her when she wasn't there. Hopefully his little intervention would.

Gendry was careful as he stepped over the gnarled roots and low branches of the trees.

He knew he was close to Arya when he heard a low warning growl escape Nymeria. The direwolf raised her head to regard him with those lovely golden eyes. Once she saw him she lowered her head sensing that her mistress was safe. He looked up to see Arya asleep at the base of a tree. One arm was curled under her head, the other was on Nymeria. She was breathing evenly and he was quiet as not to jostle her as he lowered himself into the red leaves. She didn't stir even when he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Gendry gazed around him seeing how peaceful the place around the Weirwood tree was. Though the carved face made him feel like an intruder, he did see the loveliness of the sacred area. The Starks still held the Old Gods and he now wished that his family did too. But he had been born in the age of the Seven as had Robert. The South no longer had any Weirwoods except for one ancient and almost forgotten tree at Storm's End. It had been hidden in the forest to keep it safe and it was the only one he knew of down there. He hoped nothing ever happened to it.

"Gendry?" Arya mumbled as she lifted herself from the ground.

"Hello sweet." She rubbed her head as though it hurt. "Are you alright?" She nodded at his question and started brushing off the leaves that stuck to her arms.

"Did you and Jeyne have a nice conversation?" She asked bitterly, a flicker of anger returning to those wolf eyes.

"To be honest I couldn't tell you." He said with a grin.

"You weren't listening to her, were you?" Arya chuckled. "Why?"

"I had better things to think about." Gendry was about to tell her of his speech to Jeyne but thought better of it. He wanted to see Arya's face when the steward's daughter apologised. Arya stretched. "Thank you for leaving me by the way." He finished with mock hurt.

"You didn't seem to mind her company. Plus it was obvious that Jeyne wanted some time alone with you." There was still a simmering anger to her words. He could feel it.

"Why are you so angry at me speaking to Jeyne Poole?"

"I'm not angry." She replied a little too quickly, lowering her head so he couldn't see her expression. He cupped her face and felt it heat in his hands. She refused to look at him, her eyes darting everywhere but they never landed on his face. Was she jealous?

"Yes you are." He couldn't hold back his grin.

"Shut up stupid." She slapped his hands away with a huff.

"Tell me why you're so... unhappy then." Her head snapped around, silver eyes boring into his own.

"Fine." Arya sighed, her fingers playing nervously with the fabric of her dress. She looked down again. "I've never liked her. She always used to pick on me when I was younger, actually she still does. She still calls me 'Lady Wildling'. I hate her for it."

"Arya sweet, you know I-"

"And I don't like it when she looks at you like that." She continued softly, cutting him off. "I don't know why, and I don't understand why I feel like this. It's stupid. You're just a boy and I shouldn't... Gods what in the Seven Hells is happening to me?"

For a moment Gendry didn't move. He just let her rant, spilling her thoughts as she never had before. He listened, desperately wanting to hear more. Did she like him as much as he liked her? Was that why she was jealous?

"I'm starting to act like Sansa!" She laughed nervously, her eyes scanning his for some indication that he had heard her. Of course she took his stunned silence the wrong way.

"I am so stupid. You're a prince. You would never look at me like that. Gods what was I thinking? I was wrong;_ I'm _the idiot." With that he felt own irritation starting to grow. He couldn't let her think she meant nothing to him.

"Arya stop. You are not an idiot, nor are you stupid. Nor are you like your sister."

"Thank the Gods." She looked to him and they laughed together and he took her hands in his.

"Never think that I prefer girls like that to you; because I can't stand them. They all so annoying with their pretty words and smiles. They 're just... so boring. Predictable. Nothing like you."

"And you prefer me?" She asked with a grin. He looked back down to their intwined fingers.

"Of course I do. How could I not? Arya trust me, you _are _beautiful. You're impulsive and wilful and _stubborn_. When Jon used to tell me stories of you I was captivated. Ask him if you don't believe me. Everyday I made him tell me another tale of you, or let him read the letters you sent from Braavos. I loved hearing about what you had been upto. You can't imagine how pleased I was when Lady Lyanna coaxed me into visiting Winterfell. I couldn't wait to finally meet you."

He glanced up through the fall of his hair to look at her. Her dark hair spilled over her delicate shoulders as she tilted her head. She was quiet for a long time, just looking into his eyes as her expression softened and a timid smile played at her lips.

"You're still an idiot." Arya replied with a giggle. Would she take anything he said seriously?

"If an idiot is someone who is infatuated with you then yes. I'm an idiot." Her smile became wide and genuine as she laughed. Gendry lifted her hands to his lips once more.

"So, when we were in the Godswood the other day and you... you tried to... you know... kiss me, you didn't stop because you had changed your mind and didn't want to?" Gendry watched as her eyes shone with vulnerability. It was something she rarely showed, this tenderness.

"No sweet. I didn't want to stop. I just didn't particularly want to do it with an audience." She chuckled at him.

"Me neither."

When he looked at her again, there was a different light to her eyes. A playful glint that made his stomach flip over. Arya pulled from his grasp and sighed before she flopped on her back, sinking into the pile of thick leaves behind her. She watched the Weirwood rustle overhead in the breeze. He leaned over until their faces were inches apart. Arya feebly tried to push him away. Gendry chuckled and she rolled her eyes.

"Haven't we been through this already?" She asked. "My lady mother wasn't very pleased with either of us if memory serves."

"True, though I don't think Lady Catelyn is going to come all this way just to look for us. The forge was a little different considering we were duelling at the time."

"That's not what she thought we were doing." Arya scoffed and then blushed prettily, realising what she had just said. He grinned.

"Indeed?" Gendry teased. "What did she think we were doing?" She shrugged indifferently.

"You should ask her that." Arya whispered as he inclined closer to her. She had that look again. The one she had in the forge the night they fought. Her mouth softened into a smile and her eyes seemed to become molten with emotion as she gazed up at him. Gendry wanted to kiss her; badly. It didn't help when her eyes dropped to his mouth either. Before he realised what he was doing, he gently pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

Arya

Arya stiffened, not knowing what to do. She had never been kissed before. At first she had frozen with surprise not knowing whether to push him off or pull him closer. She never thought that a kiss could feel like this. She used to pull faces when her parents did it but now…

The feather-like touch that was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Arya didn't know what to do, so she let him guide her. She found that his lips were surprisingly soft and felt nice as they brushed against hers. Gendry's free hand brushed against her face as his mouth moved against her own. Soon Arya was kissing him back, enjoying the feel of his soft lips. The hand that cupped her face moved into her hair, pressing her harder against him. Gendry cradled her in his arms as his mouth tenderly caressed hers.

It was then that Arya realised it wasn't just that she liked the physical connection to Gendry. But it was more than that. She actually felt comforted, as if everything that had happened with Jeyne meant nothing_. _It was a feeling that she had never expected. It was a sweet relief that flooded her. After all the tension and doubts, Gendry was here with _her_ because he wanted to be. The revelation sent little jolts of pleasure through her body. She grinned against his mouth and kissed him more enthusiastically then before.

Unfortunately the sweetness didn't last.

"Lady Arya!" Their heads snapped up to see Elmar walking over. Gendry mumbled under his breath and helped Arya to her feet.

Silently prayed to the Gods for strength and stepped forward to greet him. Arya pushed aside her anxiety as she met his gaze. His coal black eyes were hard and unwavering as he glanced from her to Gendry. She forced a smile though her face was burning. _Did he see us?_ She wondered, but for some reason she couldn't find it within her to care all that much.

She silently cursed the Frey's extremely bad timing. Again.

It was because of him that she and Gendry hadn't really had chance to repeat their night in the Godswood. Or the forge. They hadn't had a proper duel in what seemed forever and Arya was getting more frustrated with the Frey's domineering presence. It felt like she couldn't escape him for more than a few seconds. Whenever she was alone he would pop up. Whenever she was with Gendry he had an excuse to find her. It was really grating on her less than short temper. Gendry didn't seem pleased either. His dark ocean eyes were cold as he looked at the Frey with as much enthusiasm as she did. Except it was more than that. Whereas she just couldn't wait to be out of his sight, Gendry looked upon Elmar as if he was furious. She made a mental note to question him about it later.

Arya turned her eyes back to the Frey.

"Did you need something?" She asked, keeping her eyes on the Frey.

"Such rudeness. I expected more from a lady such as yourself." He commented, a note of disgust in his voice. She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

Elmar's whole attitude towards her was _expecting_. It was obvious that he presumed her to act properly and say the right things just because she was a lord's daughter. He had thought her like Sansa. A pretty bird willing to sing pretty songs because that was what she had been taught. Arya tried not to laugh. _He doesn't know me at all does he? Idiot. _She thought.

"Did you need something _My Lord_?"

"I did in fact." He replied with a small grin. It didn't alter the dark look he was giving her though. "I was going to invite you to go riding with me." Elmar said it as though he were doing her a favour. _Invite me. _Arya scoffed mentally. But she knew that obliging him would make her life easier.

"I would be honoured."

With that grabbed her hand and roughly placed a wet smack of his lips to the back of it. He smiled up at Arya as he bent over her wrist. It took everything inside her not to cock an eyebrow... or slap him. Instead she managed a weak smile and pulled her hand back, rubbing it discreetly on the side of her gown. He held out his arm, as if wanting her to take it. Before Arya had chance to move Nymeria trotted over, placing herself between them. _Good girl. _She said silently to her direwolf.

"Your Grace, would you join us?"

"No, I have things to do." He looked down at Arya who frowned. "Forgive me My Lady." Gendry said softly before walking away.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Summary: ****Arya comes to a fearful conclusion. **_

Gendry

Once he had seen the Frey put his hands on Arya he wanted to make sure that the boy never could touch her again. Elmar was irritated him like no other person could, except maybe his father. Or Joffrey.

Hence the reason why Gendry was stood in the Great Hall in front of Arya's family. They all sat on the high table in front of him. Lord Rickard seemed unchanged in his decision to have the Frey rather than him as Arya's future husband. However Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn were happily surprised by his offer and Lady Lyanna was beaming down at him. Her silver eyes shone with happy tears.

"Allow me to make this clear to you Prince Gendry, my granddaughter is betrothed already." Lord Rickard said loudly. Gendry did not feel intimidated by his cold eyes as they bore into him, rather the opposite. He felt more determined.

"I understand that Lady Arya was supposed to have a choice." He watched as Lord Rickard's aged face hardened, his jaw locked. He probably wondered who had told Gendry that little piece of information.

"Within the allotted time yes, but no other suitors came forward." However Lord Rickard argued his tone absolute and firm. Gendry already knew that he was a little late but he had hoped that Lord Stark would relent. Apparently not. Lyanna turned to her father, her mouth popping open.

"Father please, Gendry truly loves Arya." She begged, gripping his old hand tightly. He shrugged her off.

"That is not my concern."

"You promised me that she would have a choice. Does your word mean nothing to you?" Lyanna snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. Gendry felt a surge of hope as the old wolf focused his eyes back on him. For a moment there was something that melted in his gaze but it soon covered over again. He turned his head and nodded to Jon who stood in the corner of the room.

"Bring her here."

Gendry never turned to see his friend leave but as soon as the doors creaked open he heard two pairs of feet walking into the Great Hall. Arya came up next to him, her eyes confused. "Lady Arya, it seems you have a decision to make." Lord Rickard called, his voice echoing in the empty room. Gendry's stomach knotted painfully with tension.

"My Lord?" She asked, her tone reflecting her expression.

"You have a choice of suitors Arya." Lord Eddard spoke softly but Gendry was watching his daughter's expression alter from confusion to disbelief.

"Prince Gendry has asked for your hand sweetheart." Lyanna finished and Arya glanced up at him her face one of shock. He couldn't help but grin at her and pray to the Gods that she chose him.

"You can have as much time as you need Arya." Lord Rickard shouted regaining their attention. Gendry felt his insides plummet realising that the Frey would be around for longer.

As if summoned, Elmar stormed into the room his eyes blazing with fury.

"What is the meaning of this?! _I _am her betrothed." He yelled his cold voice ringing. He glared up at Gendry and then down at Arya his fist clenched as if he meant to strike her. "_You _are betrothed to _me_." Frey reminded her, his finger pointing. She didn't step back but tilted her chin up to study the boy in front of her.

She didnt reply and left, her hips swishing with movement. Gendry looked up at Jon as she passed and saw that his eyes were filled with relief.

Not knowing what else to do, Gendry bowed in respect to the Starks and followed her out to the Godswood.

In her haste to get outside and away from her family and the Frey boy, Arya hadn't donned a cloak. The rain continued to slam to the ground, causing the area to be dark though it was still day. She spun her silver eyes incandescent in the muted light.

"Why do you want to marry me Gendry?" Arya asked, the rain streaming down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. He smiled gently and stepped forward, keeping his eyes on hers. He came up so close to her that he could smell her wild rose scent. She tilted her face up and he found his attention switch to her mouth.

"Gods Arya, I love you." Her lips parted as she gasped. "You know that Jon told me stories since we were ten and every day I longed to meet you. Now I have, I can't imagine you not being in my life." He moved his eyes up to look into hers. "I can't bear the thought of you marrying anyone else." _Particularly the Frey. _He added mentally.

Gendry leant his forehead against hers. He gave her a moment; she needed time to absorb his words. She needed to discover he was telling the truth. She needed to come to trust him.

"But… why marry _me_ when you could have any girl in the Seven Kingdoms?" Arya asked him incredulously. He laughed in earnest and felt her pull away. To stop her from escaping he wrapped his arms around her. She looked surprised at his boldness yet she didn't push him away.

Had she not listened to a word he had said?

"It is _you_ Arya Stark that has captured my heart. No other woman has ever appealed to me as much as you have." He stared down at her and her silver gaze snapped shut as she frowned. Did she not see her magnificence? Could she not see her allure? Was she truly blind to her own beauty?

"Arya, please believe me. I would never lie to you sweet."

Her eyes opened slowly as she searched his face. The rain continued and slammed into his open skin and plastered his black hair to his head. It fell into his eyes as he looked at her. He was worried by her silence for her eyes betrayed nothing of her thoughts. Then her lips curled up; twitching to form the prettiest smile he had ever seen. Without warning she jumped up at him as she had done to Jon and he caught her in strong arms, holding her close. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and clung to him as though her life was dependant on it. Arya moved her head so that she could whisper in his ear. The feel of her warm breath made him shiver.

"I hope you know I'm not doing this simply to get away from the Frey." She released him and he lowered her to the leaf covered ground. He moved his hands to her exposed neck so he could cup her face.

"I never thought anything of the kind." His thumb traced the line of her jaw and she sighed softly.

"I'll go to my grandfather on the morrow if he's feeling better."

It was only later when Gendry was alone in his chambers that he realised that he had no idea how she felt about him.

* * *

Arya

Arya woke the next morning feeling cheerful, knowing that she owed it to Gendry. He had been so tender and honest with her that she had felt herself tremble. He _loved _her. His words still echoed in her head and made her smile like a stupid little girl. But Arya didn't care.

His eyes had been so filled with longing and desire that she had been shocked to her core. But it wasn't an uncomfortable feeling like when the Frey looked at her. No, rather she felt heat skating across her skin and tightness low in her belly. It was an unusual sensation, but one that she quite liked.

She wasn't entirely sure what it was that she felt for Gendry, but Arya knew that she liked him; a lot. He made her laugh. He was stupid and stubborn. Half of the time she was torn between hitting him and kissing him. Ultimately he made her happy.

Arya knew that she should probably have said something last night to him, but she had been too overwhelmed.

She dressed herself in pants and a shirt, which to her was far more comfortable than a dress as made her way to see her grandfather. Arya found it strange to walk without Nymeria by her side, but she knew the wolf was safe and more than likely with her brothers. She met Gendry at the end of the corridor, his bright blue eyes warm and so deep she could drown in them. He held out his hand to her and she took it, revelling the feel of his strong fingers wrap around hers.

"Good morning My Lady."

"Shut up." She said, punching him in the arm with her other hand. He laughed and she tried to suppress a grin.

"You're always so lovely to me." Gendry just tightened his grip on her so she couldn't pull free.

"You started it." Arya retorted. She knew she sounded like a child with the bantering but he deserved it.

"True enough." His smile then melted away and he frowned. "You haven't changed your mind have you?" She sighed.

"Of course I haven't."

"Good; because I don't know what I would have done if you had." Gendry chuckled nervously. She was torn between hitting and kissing him. She decided on the latter simply due to the fact that she had already smacked him this morning. Arya rose to her toes and pressed a light peck to his cheek. When she lowered herself down to the floor they began to head for the Great Hall.

Breakfast had been served at this point so she knew that her family would be there. Her stomach started churning with worry despite that the feeling was utterly pointless. Her family would accept her decision and would hopefully be pleased with it. She knew that her mother would be, though she had always thought that it would be Sansa who married a prince, not Arya.

"Are you alright?" Gendry asked as they approached the Great Hall. He seemed to sense her nerves.

"Mhm." Arya replied and he chuckled softly.

Suddenly a horrific scream filled the air, echoing across the grey stones, ringing in the courtyard. Simulataneously her and Gendry ran towards the sound, never expecting the sight that unfolded before them.

Lying on his back at the base of the abandoned tower was Bran. His eyes were closed and his chest wasn't moving. Summer yowled, a sound that blended agony and fury. A woman stood beside Bran's body with her hand over her mouth as a sob escaped. Arya sprinted over and collapsed by her brother's side.

"What happened?" She shrieked as people gathered around.

"He... he fell." Was the broken reply.

"No, no no no. Bran!" Arya took her younger brother's face in her palms and leant forward. A dreadful moment passed, then another. Her heart skipped until she felt a sudder of a breath on her cheek. She thanked the Gods. He was still alive. She looked up, tears falling freely, dripping from her chin. Around her no-one moved. "Someone get help! Fetch Maester Luwin _now!_" Arya yelled, cradling her brother in her arms. "Bran, please. Please wake up, oh Gods, please." Behind her she heard footsteps crunch as someone approached. "Bran, please. Little brother, please look at me, please!" Gendry's warm hands gently pried her away from her brother as the aged maester sunk to his knees. He pressed his stubby fingers into Bran's neck and waited a couple of seconds.

"Hodor! Mikken! Pick up the Lord and carry him to his chambers!" The old man demanded and they did as he said. "Gods be careful with his head and legs! Keep his back straight!" The maester turned to her his dark eyes sullen. "I will do all I can Lady Arya." She felt a sob part her lips and then she was wrapped in strong arms as her body shook violently.

"Shh, Arya. He's alive. He'll be alright. Shh." Gendry cooed, holding her close. "The maester will look after him. It'll be alright." Pressed against his chest as she was, Arya couldn't see the people around her, mumbling and crying. All she could see was the tower, the solid aged stones reaching the sky. The spire broke into the cloud, only demonstrating its height as it loomed over the courtyard. "He's alive Arya." Gendry murmured again and she couldn't help but think. _Yes but how long for?_

* * *

That day was the worst of Arya's life.

Her mother was weeping hysterically as her father held her in shaky arms. Arya was sat beside her brother, holding his cold hand in her own. Summer, Bran's direwolf was curled by his master's feet, his yellow eyes trained on the door. Gendry stood behind her listening to Maester Luwin intently and asking him questions.

"Will he live?"

"Yes I think so." The old man smiled and covered Bran again with a thick fur throw.

"Thank the Gods." Lady Catelyn cried and gave a watery smile while clutching Ned even tighter.

"Has he lost the use of his legs Maester?" Gendry questioned gently, keeping one hand on her shoulder. Arya was grateful for him staying with her.

"No My Prince. The worst of his injuries was his head. I fear he hit it very hard, but I think he will be alright." She sighed, feeling her shoulders slump with relief. "But he has broken his arm and leg Lady Stark. He will be bedridden for a long time." Catelyn nodded and came forward and took a seat beside her son's bed. "I will be back to check on him later." With that he left and Arya saw little Rickon enter the room, Shaggydog close at his heels. His brilliant blue eyes were wide with fear and confusion.

"Mother?" He squeeked, his eyes flickering from his sister to his parents. Neither of them paid any attention so Arya scooped up her brother and hugged him. "What happened to him Arya? Is he alright?" She pulled back and kissed him on the head.

"He had a nasty fall." Gendry answered for her.

Rickon's arms wound around Arya's neck as she carried him from the room. She didn't want him to see Bran like that. Not yet. Not so soon after the incident. As she walked down the corridor her mind started to race.

Bran had never fallen before. All the hundreds of times she had watched him, in all weathers he had never had an accident. Never. Bran was surefooted and agile, able to scramble up vertical walls and reach heights she could only dream of. Out of all of the Stark children her younger brother had a gift for climbing.

She lowered Rickon to the ground once they were outside in the air. She could feel eyes on her, watching and studying. Seeing her cry for the first time. No-one of them spoke as she handed her littlest brother to Jon. He would occupy the youngest Stark with he stared at her in shock Arya headed for the empty tower. No one ever went in there since the fire that happened before she was born. Some said it was haunted, others simply didn't like the look of the burnt stones and crumbling windows.

"Arya!" Gendry shouted after her as she ascended the uneven steps. "Arya stop!" She came to the circular room at the top and looked around hearing Gendry pant softly. She walked around the circular room, seeing that parts of the floor had been moved and recently. The dust and twisted vines had been uprooted and kicked away.

Hesitantly Arya walked over to the window, ignoring the bile she felt rising in her throat. She looked out onto the court and then carefully inspected the arched window itself. She pushed at the worn stones, noticing they didn't move an inch. They were sturdy even after all that time. Protruding from the exterior wall were thick wooden beams, and the grooves in the stone were deep and solid. They provided Bran an easy access to the high tower which he would have explored with grace as always.

"Arya? Sweet please say something." Gendry spun her around, gripping her arms. His oceanic eyes were concerned and frightened for her.

"Bran didn't fall."

"What do you mean?" He scowled, his gaze darting to the open window. Arya managed blink back the determined tears that threatened to fall.

"He was thrown."

* * *

_**I really wasn't sure about this chapter, if people could let me know if its any good I'd really appreciate it :)**_

**_Thanks again for reading._  
**


	13. Chapter 13

_**Summary: **__**Arya has a conversation with Summer.**_  


Arya

It was the day after Bran's accident. Arya had dragged Gendry and Jon into the forge, the only place she felt that she could talk to them without being overheard. She had described to her cousin exactly what she thought had happened, yet both of them stubbornly refused to acknowledge the truth behind what she was saying. Gendry still thought that Arya was in shock at finding her brother, lying broken on the ground.

"Are you sure?" The prince asked again folding his arms across his broad chest. His eyebrow rose at her as his mouth twisted in a look of disbelief. Jon shared the same expression. It would have been comical if she weren't so annoyed.

"Yes. I know my brother Gendry. He's a better climber than all of us put together. He's _never_ fallen." Arya insisted, continuing to look into his sapphire eyes.

"Arya, you're upset. It's-" Her cousin started but she scowled at him, ending his protest in its tracks.

"I am way beyond upset Jon. Someone hurt _my brother_." What made it worse for Arya was that they were still walking around out there. In her home. They could do it again and she had no idea who it was. She couldn't stop them.

"Who would want to hurt Bran? In his own home no less?" He asked watching her face carefully as he rested against the bench. She felt her fists clench at her sides in frustration.

"I don't know! If I did then I would stick them with the pointy end of _Needle._" Arya was trying to wrack her brain as to think who would harm Bran. And to do it in such a way that it looked like an accident… it was cunning.

She prayed that Bran remembered everything, but with the knock to his head she doubted he would. Because of the fall he had slipped into a deep sleep over the past two days and nothing could wake him. Maester Luwin said it was his body's way of healing.

"Obviously it wasn't any of us. No-one in Winterfell would dare to harm a Stark. And why would they want to?" Jon offered his dark eyes drifting between his cousin and his best friend. Arya shrugged. They had been here for a while and so far she hadn't been able to come up with an idea of who would intentionally hurt Bran. Her head was starting to ache with their lack of progress.

"What about the Frey?" She proposed biting her lip. He was the only one who fit. He wasn't a Stark, nor was he their friend. In fact Arya was certain that she could name a few people who hated him with an enthusiasm that equalled hers.

"He wouldn't Arya." Gendry said stiffly, shaking his head. Arya sighed, feeling more and more tired.

"I know his reputation but he wants to create an alliance with us, not completely demolish it." Jon sniggered, trying to make light of the situation. Yet his jibe only made her anger soar. She didn't need to be reminded of her betrothal to the Frey. Due to the accident, her plans to speak to Lord Rickard had been postponed. Arya couldn't bear the thought of announcing her engagement. It was disrespectful if nothing else. And unimportant in light of everything that had happened. Gods be good, Bran had almost died!

"Yes, thank you for reminding me." She growled before leaving the warmth of Mikken's forge. The cold air assaulted her senses and prickled her skin, making her shudder.

"Arya, wait." Gendry called and grabbed her hand before spinning her around to face him. "Maybe what happened to Bran _was_ just an accident."

"But it wasn't. I know it wasn't. Why don't you believe me?" She asked, wide eyed and desperate as she looked up at him.

"It's not that I _don't _believe you Arya. But you're making a serious accusation without any proof." She was damned if she admitted he was right so she refused to.

"Then I'll get some." She retorted.

"Just... wait until your brother wakes up before attacking anyone with _Needle. _Alright?"

"Fine! Though I doubt that if it was Edric you would be acting so calmly!" Arya yelled, her voice dripping with acidity.

"Of course I wouldn't. But it's not my brother who was hurt was it? Nor would he be." He added, speaking almost to himself.

"How stupid of me to forget that Baratheon Princes are above getting harmed." She muttered sarcastically. Gendry narrowed his eyes, annoyance flickering in those blue depths. Arya yanked her arm from his tightening grip and stormed away. He let her go without argument and she was glad.

Arya didn't want to fight with him but her temper was becoming shorter and shorter as time passed. She would apologise to him when everything had calmed down but right now she just wanted to hit something.

_Why does no-one believe me?! _She asked herself again.

* * *

On her way back to the Great Hall Arya saw Elmar. The cold Northern air had done little to soothe the bubbling fury within her, and seeing him only made it worse.

She glared at him from across the hall. But that was all she did, glare. Though Gendry had annoyed her, she still listened to his advice. She did need proof in order to confront the Frey otherwise everyone would think that she was making erroneous claims. Arya sighed, wishing that she could just set Nymeria on him. She was grinning at the idea as she took a gulp of the lemon water from her cup. The bittersweet taste lingered on her tongue for a moment before she swallowed, lost to her own thoughts.

Right now the Frey was talking amiably with her father though Ned looked as though his mind was far away. His grey eyes were distant and dark, tired looking as dark smudges rested beneath them. Arya knew that he probably hadn't gotten much sleep since Bran's fall and she empathized with him. She knew that her father was probably just as worried about her mother as he was his son. Lady Catelyn hadn't left Bran's bedside once. Not for food, nor to make water. Nothing could pry her away from him.

Rickon didn't understand the full situation and Arya couldn't bring herself to tell him. So he constantly followed her around as if he was lost. Sometimes he would just cling to her, his Tully eyes confused as he looked to her for answers. Answers that she didn't have. All Arya could do was hold him and whisper words that she wasn't sure she believed in. Things like 'he'll be okay, I promise'. How could she promise him such a thing? Bran may never wake though she prayed otherwise. Life in Winterfell just wouldn't be the same without her brother.

It was then that Summer, Bran's direwolf entered the hall. His eyes were wide and bright as he trotted over to her. Though as he passed the Frey the wolf snarled, a deep threatening rumble that had the boy backing away. She saw the rage burn in those golden depths as he studied the Frey. Summer then came to stand by her, brushing against her legs gently. Nymeria rose from the floor and whined at her sibling. The high noise was backed by Summer who circled her again and nudged his head against the back of her knees. He started to walk away, looking back and urging her to follow him. With another hateful glance at Elmar, the direwolf loped off towards Bran's chamber.

Arya frowned and looked at the Frey. It was then she realised that Summer had confirmed her fears. Without words the wolf had told her who had harmed his master.

_You did it. _She thought towards Elmar. _You tried to kill my brother. _For a moment Arya was unable to move as the revelation hit her. Her body felt strangely numb, as if she had been standing in the snow for too long. As if her booted feet were fused to the floor. For the life of her she couldn't move. Arya couldn't break her eyes away from him either and it didn't go unnoticed. The boy bowed his head mockingly and she knew that he knew.

Shaking herself, Arya strode from the hall, Nymeria easily keeping pace beside her.

* * *

Before Arya began to walk towards Bran's chambers, she visited her own and changed clothes. She adopted pants and a long wool shirt that had once belonged to Jon. She grabbed _Needle _from the chest at the end of her bed and tucked it into the waistband of her breeches, feeling safer just by having it with her.

She hadn't seen her brother today and though she was expecting to find him in the same state, she wanted to be there to support him anyway. Besides, she wanted to see Summer again, ask him if Elmar had indeed hurt Bran. The direwolf was connected to her brother as she was to Nymeria. The wolf blood was strong within all of the Stark children, yet more-so in the three youngest members. Nymeria always knew what Arya was feeling and sometimes she could have sworn to the Gods that she understood what she was _thinking. _Yet it never unnerved her. Quite the opposite in fact; it was a great comfort.

Arya entered her brother's chambers, being careful as she made her way to the bed. Lady Catelyn had fallen asleep in a chair, her head resting against the high leather back, long Tully hair draped over one shoulder as she slept. Still clutched in her hands was an effigy, several figurines to represent her Gods, The Seven. She was making it to put above Bran, Arya was sure, to watch over and protect him. It wasn't finished and Arya gently pried it from her mother's hands, placing it on the table next to her. She then covered Catelyn's legs with a spare throw. Though Bran's room wasn't cold, he didn't have a fireplace either. And Arya didn't want her mother to become sick on top of everything else.

Summer rose his large head from his paws and their gazes met. His eyes, so similar to Nymeria's watched her, showing a deep grief that only seemed to match her own. Arya carefully sunk onto one edge of the matress and continued to stare at her brother's direwolf.

"Did the Frey hurt Bran, Summer?" She asked in a voice that was almost inaudible yet the male direwolf heard her.

_Yes. _He replied, a glimmer of his previous rage in his eyes, a low snarl forming at the edge of his muzzle. Arya's heart lurched as she tried to contain the tears that threatened to spill over.

"Why?"

This time Summer didn't reply, he just turned to regard Bran with large sad eyes. His pink tongue lolled out of his mouth as he licked his masters hand, whining softly. Nymeria lowered herself to the rug near her feet, her golden stare never moving from the door as she kept watch. Arya leant over and patted her direwolf on the head, earning an appreciative growl. Arya grinned and itched the wolf's ears, getting a small measure of contentment from the simple act.

It was the scraping of feet across the floor that warned Arya that she and her mother were no longer alone. Her head snapped up to see Elmar's amused expression from the doorway as he passed. All her former anger twisted into rage, a searing flame that washed through her body. It burned brighter than anything she had ever felt before.

Arya didn't hesitate as she bolted from the room. She didn't feel guilty or leaving Bran. Summer was with him and would guard her brother better than she ever could. Nymeria ran after her as she left, golden eyes blazing with a fury that countered hers.

She soon caught up to Elmar.

Nymeria leaped onto an unsuspecting Frey, pinning him with her weight. Her roaring muzzle was inches away from his white exposed throat. She snarled fiercely while he wriggled helplessly beneath her. His coal eyes were wide and scared as Arya pointed _Needle _at him.

"You dare come into _my _home and hurt _my _family. You dare." Arya said low, knowing how her silver eyes burned. Nymeria snapped at him angrily, lips pulling back to reveal her long fangs. Arya pressed the sharpened tip of her sword harder into his pounding pulse.

"You hurt my brother because you wanted to marry me, why?" Elmar answered with a high pitched squeal. Her direwolf barked threateningly in response. Arya knew then she wasn't going to receive any answers from the boy. Not now. "It doesn't matter. You will not get to me by hurting my family."

"Go back to the Twins Frey. And I swear to the Gods if you _ever_ come near Winterfell or any Stark again, _Needle _will be last thing you see. Understand?" He barely managed to nod. She sheathed her blade and backed away calling Nymeria after her. With a final growl, the direwolf complied and released the Frey. He rolled over and scampered off. Arya sensed a flutter of satisfaction as she saw the terror in those dark eyes.

She knew that it was bad of her but she was pleased. Now_ he_ knew how it felt.

* * *

**_I probably should have posted their ages earlier... sorry!_**

**_Arya 19, Gendry 22, Jon 23, Bran 18_**


	14. Chapter 14

**_Summary: Winterfell gets a lot brighter.  
_**

Arya

When Arya entered Bran's chambers she saw him sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Relief nearly floored her but she pushed it away in order to race to his bedside. When she was there, Arya pulled her younger brother into a fierce hug, feeling a shuddery laugh escape her body.

"I'm alright Arya." He gasped, hugging her back.

"We were so worried about you!" She pulled back to look at him. "How are you feeling? Are you alright? What do you remember? Does anything hurt?" Bran chuckled at the sudden bombardment of questions.

"Firstly, yes I'm fine, although I'm really hungry. Only my arm hurts thank the Gods. I don't honestly remember anything, except for falling. I never realised how high the abandoned tower was." He frowned and turned his grey eyes to her. He scanned her face. "You look awful."

"That's with concern for you, you idiot!" She playfully hit him and then pulled him into another embrace. It was then she realised she was laughing and crying all at the same time. The sensations were almost surreal.

"Are _you _alright?" Her brother asked nervously, brushing away the happy tears on her face.

"Of course I am stupid." Arya tittered and sighed, composing herself. "I'll fetch Maester Luwin. He'll want to have a look at you." She wiped the last of her tears away and went to get the maester.

* * *

Arya was stood in Bran's room listening to the healer chat to her brother as the rest of her family surrounded them. Her mother was crying again, leaning against Ned for support. Her father and aunt both shared looks of utter relief and then there was Jon, who was smiling constantly. Everyone was rejoicing that Bran was alive and well.

"Well Lord Bran, it appears that the Gods have saved you. Your leg isn't broken as I had previously thought, though it is damaged. Your arm has shattered in three places however and I would suggest no more sword or archery practise." Maester Luwin said. Bran's face crumpled with disappointment but he didn't pass a comment.

"No more climbing Bran." Lady Catelyn said. Her hiccupping ruining the stern effect she was after.

He hung his head and gave a small nod. Arya caught his gaze and she knew that look. He wasn't going to give it up. Perhaps he wouldn't climb the buildings anymore, but he certainly wouldn't give up clambering the Weirwood. Arya supressed a grin. She knew her brother all too well. Or perhaps he was just too similar to her.

Chuckling to herself she left the room, heading outside. On her way to the forge Arya passed the Frey, seeing deep red scratches on one side of his face. They looked red and slightly swollen and she smiled, unable to contain it. She was surprised that he honestly hadn't pissed his pants when Nymeria had pounced on him. She laughed at the memory. Her amusement however was short lived as it was then that he beamed back. The expression on his face worried her. At a first glance his smile appeared to be all politeness, but there was something darker in it, something that made a shiver run down her back. Arya shrugged it off, knowing that Elmar had taken her threat seriously. She had meant what she had said earlier. If he ever went near her family again, she would kill him.

Arya broke her gaze with the Frey and entered Mikken's forge hearing the double clang of steel hitting steel.

The Stark's blacksmith bowed his head in respect to her. She was pleased that he had beaten the fever that had sickened him. His aged eyes were bright again, the chestnut brown warm just as she remembered. Arya smiled back but made her way over to where Prince Gendry was bent over the bench, focus etched on his face as he worked. He was fully clothed this time even though sweat beaded on his forehead. His heavy black hair was tousled as though he had run his hands through it a few times. She couldn't see what he was making; it was small and hidden by the range of tools that lined the surface.

She stopped a few feet away, not wanting to distract him from his work. Instead she sat on a stool and patiently waited.

"How's Bran?" He asked respectfully, not looking away from what he was doing. Arya instantly felt a twinge of guilt remembering the way she had screamed at him.

"He's awake now and feeling much better."

"That's good."

"Maester Luwin says he won't be able to practise archery for a while. Or climb." In all honesty, Arya was just pleased that Bran was able to still use his legs.

"I can imagine Lord Bran not being very happy about that Lady Arya." Mikken laughed, the deep booming sound mingling with the clang of metal. Arya shook her head.

"No he wasn't very pleased." She said, unable to stop her grin. "Though he didn't argue with him."

"He won't listen to the maester." Gendry said though he continued to tap the metal he was working with. "I've noticed that Stark children seem to have a habit of disobeying." He stated the observation as his eyes twinkled with mischief.

"It's a trait that runs in the family." Arya stated, not offended in the least. Her and Bran _did_ have a problem listening to their parents.

"Apparently." They grinned at one another and she felt the tension begin to dissipate. "Does he remember anything?"

"He can't recall if he was pushed or not if that's what you're asking." He nodded in response and then the awkward silence stretched out again. Neither of them said anything else and Arya didn't know how to say what she wanted to. Not with Mikken there. So she left.

* * *

Gendry

He knew that Arya had come to the forge to apologise to him. Gendry had seen shame in the banks of those lovely metallic eyes. He would have guessed that she felt bad for yelling at him the other day. Looking back, he didn't blame her. What she said was true. He would have acted the same way if it were his brother who had been harmed. It scared him to think someone would harm Arya's little brother. In his own home no less, surrounded by people that loved him dearly. Gendry knew if it were him in her place then he wouldn't rest until he discovered who was accountable for the crime. So he didn't know why he had tried to persuade Arya that what had occurred was just an accident. She knew her brother better than he did after all.

Yet the rage he had been consuming her. Rage and desperation and fear had burned inside her and he was worried it would take over. He had seen it happen before. He knew that look when someone couldn't think of anything but vengeance. She had paced the abandoned tower for hours, speaking to herself, listing all those who may have had something to do with the "accident". That was probably why he had tried to calm her.

_It didn't work though did it? _Gendry chided himself. In fact his speech to Arya had had the opposite effect. She was now angrier with him than anyone else. Arya had thought he would believe her and as a result felt a little betrayed. Neither him nor Jon, her favourite person had listened to her. Again he felt a painful cramp of guilt inside him.

Now, seeing the Frey he understood why she had accused the boy of such malevolence. Gendry studied the boy from the opposite side of the Great Hall.

His eyes glittered, cold and unfeeling in the dim light of the candles. They cast shadows on his sharp features, picking up the rough detail on the violent scratches on his face, making him seem even harsher. Gendry didn't know where Elmar had aquired those wounds though he suspected that Arya had something to do with it. He didn't blame her for ignoring his request not to attack anyone until she knew for sure who had hurt Lord Bran. If roles were reversed he wouldn't see such sense and he knew it. The knowledge just made the repentance worse.

To distract himself, Gendry tried to find Arya in the mass of people. It didn't take him long. To him she stood out, even in this crowd. With her long dark hair, steel eyes and a body that could kill within a second's notice. He was pleased to note that at the moment she was in deep conversation with the Stark's most recent guests, Meera and Jojen of House Reed. Apparently they were good friends of Arya and Bran as they had grown up together. Gendry liked seeing her with people who she _wanted _to be around rather than those she was forced to put up with. Her lips were pulled in a constant and genuine smile, her eyes flickering between her brother and friends, warm and happy. It felt like the incident with Bran had never occurred.

That was until her gaze timidly flicked up and met his.

She quickly glanced back to Meera though a rose blush tinted her cheeks. She then said something that caused the Reed girl to look over to him. Her bright green gaze was steady and measured. There was no judgement in them as she studied him and bowed her head a little in respect. She turned back to Arya whose mouth dropped. She looked both amused and shocked by something Meera had said. Bran laughed heartily and Jojen frowned as though he didn't understand the jest. Arya rolled her eyes.

"Are you enjoying the feast Your Grace?" Lord Eddard asked, coming to stand next to him. Gendry found himself looking into eyes the colour of the Northern sky. A smile played at the corner of his mouth and he couldn't help but smirk back. He nodded in reply to the question.

"I would like to take this opportunity to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"Yes for asking Arya for her hand." His stormy grey eyes flashed to his daughter and then to the Frey. "I know exactly what would happen if she married _him_, and now it looks very unlikely that my daughter will meet that fate; thanks to you." For a moment the prince was completely stunned. He never expected Lord Eddard to thank him. "It makes the whole situation easier, knowing that she will be marrying a decent man who loves her." Words escaped him he followed Ned Stark's gaze to Arya who was laughing in earnest at her brother, who against all the advice given to him was dancing with Meera Reed.

She was a small girl, similar to Arya's build and just came up to Bran's shoulders. Her brown hair was loosely braided at the back of her head and she wore an elaborate green gown. It was very different to anything Arya had ever worn. Whereas she preferred plainer garments, Meera obviously liked something more unusual. The laced up top was coloured in a mass of olive and jade scales, all shimmering in the light. The skirts were paler shade of green as were the long sleeves. The style wasn't similar to anything that he had seen before yet it seemed to suit her.

As they danced closer to where he was stood, Gendry caught snippets of their conversation.

"-how tall you are Bran! I mean, you're huge!" He blushed fiercely and shrugged, trying to act casual.

"-well you're still small. Like Arya." He grumbled back, twirling in the opposite direction.

"-still a better hunter than you." Meera argued. Then they both looked at each other and laughed, agreeing with her boast. Gendry grinned. She was so similar to Arya it was almost scary.

"Excuse me Lord Stark." He edged around the group of people near the banquet. Soon enough he was stood close to her, staring down into those molten silver eyes. A little of her previous amusement died away as she regarded him. She was still angry, he knew that. "Arya, I am sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Not here." She rushed and grabbed his hand, dragging him from the Great Hall. Arya pulled him into an a alcove a little away from the noises of the hall. It was sheltered and quiet near the armoury, and mercifully dry under the overhanging roof. It was still raining profusely, which also helped drown out the din.

"I'm sorry." Arya said quickly before looking away. "I shouldn't have yelled at you the other day. I was just so mad. I'm sick of people not listening to me, or taking what I say seriously." Infuriated she started to pace again, her eyes flashing to his. "He did it by the way, Elmar. I know that he did."

"How do you know Arya?"

"Summer told me." She said simply, her chin rising in that challenging way of hers.

"A direwolf told you that Elmar Frey hurt your brother?"

"Yes and don't look at me like that. I'm telling the truth."

If it had been anyone else she had said this to, they may have thought her raving. But Gendry understood the bond between the Stark children and their direwolves. Jon had told him many times about how Ghost reflected his feelings and thoughts and that sometimes that the wolf could read his mind.

His friend said that it was the wolf blood, which had ran in his mother, his uncles and now him and his cousins.

Arya and Nymeria had a strong connection, so why was it so hard to believe that she could speak to Summer too? Even if he did accept this as correct what were they to do about it? No-one would take her claim seriously, especially when they asked for evidence. What would she say? 'Summer told me'. He couldn't imagine Lady Catelyn taking that well. Putting _that_ aside, technically Arya was still betrothed to the Frey as they hadn't yet confronted Lord Rickard. Gendry sighed feeling his head begin to pound.

"And what do you plan to do with your betrothed?" The word slipped out without his permission and Arya stepped forward, the word notching her irk higher.

"Shut up Gendry." She snapped, wolf eyes glaring at him. He noticed that she only used his name when she was _very _angry with him.

"Well it's true. Gods, if we don't speak to Lord Rickard _soon_-"

"My brother had just survived an accident; one that almost took his life. Did you really think it was appropriate to announce our engagement in light of that?" She argued, folding her arms across her chest. Her eyes narrowed.

"No but-"

"But nothing. I accepted your offer, which for now should be enough."

_How could it be enough when the Frey is constantly following her and now apparently hurting her family?_ Gendry thought, scowling into the night. He felt another spark in his chest whenever he thought of Arya with Elmar. He had to give it to the Frey as he nothing but persistant. He constantly followed her and tried to get her alone.

Glancing down he saw again how beautiful Arya was. How lovely. He decided to do the only thing he could. Her eyes widened as is mouth lowered to hers.

"What are you doing?" Arya demanded. But her silver eyes heated with something other than just irritation. Gendry answered with the press of lips. She could have pushed him away but instead Arya then leaned further into him. Taking cue, he applied more pressure to her mouth, knowing all the while that he should stop, but the feel of her pressed against him, feverishly kissing him was too addictive.

It was very different to their first kiss which was gentle. This seemed to be full of frustration and urgency. He lifted her with ease and Arya surprised him by wrapping her legs around his waist. Gendry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body closer to his.

His mind screamed at him to end this, yet he couldn't force himself away. Her hand moved to the back of his head as he sipped and kissed her lips, her fingers running through his thick hair. Gendry groaned at the heady sensation, unable to stop the sound from escaping. Tentatively his tongue traced the seam of her lips and Arya shivered delicately.

"Arya where- oh I'm so sorry!" Meera shouted as she covered her eyes. Flustered she spun and almost ran back inside.

Arya burst into laughter. It was a nervous, shaky sound that made him smile in return. Slowly he disengaged herself from him, pressing a final kiss to his mouth and followed her friend.

Gendry didn't follow right away. Instead he took a moment to breathe in the cold air, shaking his head at his own stupidity. What had he been thinking?! He was just grateful no-one had seen.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Summary: Elmar becomes more determined.  
**_

Arya

Right now Arya was walking with Bran, who was unwavering in his decision to leave his bed. Maester Luwin had tried to stop him but her brother wasn't listening. He had not left his chambers in over four days and was determined to get out, if only for a little while. Summer and Nymeria easily kept pace beside them, seeming to enjoy shuffling through the deep layer of snow that had laid over night.

"Can we stop?" Her brother asked, his breath coming out a white puff of mist in the still air.

"Is your leg hurting?" Arya helped steady Bran as he rubbed his thigh.

"No, I just want to rest it for a moment."

"If you want to go back we can." He glowered at her and she instantly stopped talking.

She didn't mind the rest one bit. Arya had woken that morning feeling achy all over. She and Gendry had duelled for hours last night after the banquet. This time he had beaten her. She still didn't know _how _he had managed to do it. One moment she was blocking his low parry, the next she was on her back, _Needle _rolling out of her hands. Gendry had laughed above her, his smile broad. She hadn't actually minded him winning, which was unlike her. This was after their kiss of course.

Arya she knew that her fondness for Gendry was growing and forming into something very sweet. She could feel it when she looked at him. Arya looked up from her brother and saw that she was directly opposite the forge. Someone was in there working and by the heat that was radiating from it she would have guessed it was Mikken rather than Gendry. She sighed heavily, just wanting to see him again.

_Gods, _Arya thought, shuddering. _I sound more like Sansa everyday. What is wrong with me?  
_

"Um, Arya could you let go of me please?" Bran laughed, glancing down to her claw-like grip on his arm. Instantly she released him, feeling her face heat. _Stupid Prince. _She grumbled mentally.

"You don't seem yourself today, are you alright?"

"I'm fine brother." _Just distracted... very distracted._ She thought.

"That's good because I thought you were thinking about the Prince again." He said matter-of-factly. Bran smirked knowingly after catching the guilty shine in her eyes.

"Shut up. I wasn't thinking about him at all." She lied, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

"You are such a bad liar Arya." He chuckled, grey eyes shimmering with mischief. "Besides, Jojen said that you dragged the Prince from the Great Hall and-"

"And I said _shut up_."

Again she felt like last night had been a very bad idea. Not at the time, but looking back perhaps she shouldn't have allowed Gendry to kiss her like that. But it had felt so good, after all the guilt, worry, frustration, anger... Gendry shared those feelings. Arya was sure. She was a little annoyed that Meera had come to find her, but rather her than Bran.

"-you go again." Her brother cocked an eyebrow at her expectantly. "Did you hear a word I said?"

"No, sorry. I can't concentrate today."

"That's alright... Are you sure that Pr-"

"If you're going to say something else about Prince Gendry then I would reconsider if I were you. Or else I may enlighten Meera of your intentions towards her." Arya warned and her brother had the courtesy to redden. He also mumbled incoherently under his breath. He knew that his sister would quite happily see her threat through. She sniggered at his expression.

The rest of the morning continued like this. They continued to walk, Bran even more resolute to get out of Winterfell's high stone walls than usual. Arya was quite content to indulge her brother, enjoying his company more than she ever had. Another result of almost losing him, she was sure.

The direwolves seemed happy too, leaping and playing with one another, despite their sizes. Brother and sister like her and Bran. It made her smile to think of it like that. A family. A pack. Jon had come back too and they were all together. Except for Sansa and her direwolf Lady. Arya still missed her sister even though she had annoyed her to no end. Her giggle, her silly manners, her proper speach. Everything about her older sister was Tully and perfect. Some aspects Arya envied whilst others she laughed at.

Arya was no Tully. She was a Stark, like Lyanna. Like her father. She had a different dancing style, she preferred horse riding to sewing and she hated wearing dresses and being kind to people who didn't deserve it. Like the Queen. Sansa had idolized her, yet Arya saw Cersei Lannister for what she was. Cruel and ambitious. She wished that she never saw the blonde woman again. Yet that was inevitable now. Now she would become Gendry's wife, a princess and she would have to live in the Red Keep.

Suddenly all of Arya's amusement and serenity slipped away. Her smile left her face.

Nymeria looked up and released Summer from her grip, bounding to her mistress. Her glorious yellow eyes were suddenly concerned as she gazed directly at Arya. Bran followed the direwolf's eyes and he placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing softly.

"It'll be alright Arya. I'm sure the Prince will look after you." There was nothing condescending about his tone, only a gentle reassurance.

Nymeria wrapped around her legs, nodding her head against Arya's hand. Summer whined softly, it was an agreement to Bran. Yet all Arya could think was that she would be in a place where Sansa had been abused. It was where Joffrey lived. Where the King ruled. Where Cersei plotted. She trusted Gendry with her life, but that place... she hated the heat, the smells and the people.

She remembered what her father had said to her when he and Robert had argued about Sansa. Lord Eddard had been furious when he received a raven from her sister, telling of her 'mistreatment'. Arya still didn't know _how _she had managed to send the letter without the Queen finding out.

"She's a wolf isn't she?" Robert had said. "They're strong."

"Yes, when she is with her pack. Whereas Sansa is a lone wolf in a lions den." Ned had replied.

What he hadn't said was that Sansa wasn't only a Stark. She was a Tully. Gentle and sweet. The Hound had never been wrong when he called her 'Little Bird'.

Arya however was very different. Alone or with her family, she wouldn't cower. But it didn't mean that she would survive. And she doubted very much that Cersei would bend to her threats as Elmar had done.

She sighed, shrugging away those unwelcome thoughts. Arya would deal with those problems when she arrived and not until then. Right now she didn't have the patience to think through all the things spinning in her head. They were all demanding serious attention but Arya couldn't focus. It was wrong of her and she knew it, but she would rather think of Gendry and his wonderful kisses. The way he had held her, it was so possessive yet he hadn't been rough. His embrace had been warm and secure. Arya had never felt anything like that before. All hot and shivery as Gendry trailed his lips over her mouth, down the line of her jaw and back. When she had felt the first touch of his tongue she had almost melted. She was very grateful that he had held her up, no matter how it looked to any bystanders.

_They should mind their own business. _Arya thought smugly.

If it hadn't have been for Meera, she didn't know what would have happened. Though Arya suspected that Gendry would have stopped before things got out of hand.

"What is Rickon doing up there?" Bran asked, bringing her out of her daydream. A deep frown replaced his former serene expression. Her head snapped up and beyond the steady flurry of snow, she could see her little brother. He was perched on the inside of the abandoned tower, gazing out of the window. His little hands were white as he clutched frightfully at the ancient stones.

"Oh Gods." Arya muttered before she belted for the tower. "Rickon!" She screamed, warning him not to move with her tone.

The deep snow was difficult to negotiate through, particularly when she came across a bit of uneven earth or a cobble. She tripped a couple of times, but it didn't slow her pace. Arya stormed up the tower steps, taking longer strides to quickly reach the circular room at the peak. When she arrived, she was panting heavily and sweating with the sudden exertion.

Rickon turned and ran into her open arms.

"What are you doing up here?" She asked desperately, hugging him against her.

"Lord Elmar said he wanted to show me something." He said innocently, his voice muffled against her shoulder. She sighed.

"Rickon I want you to go down to the court and _stay _with Bran until I get there. Alright?" She pulled back and he nodded, brilliant blue eyes staring at her earnestly. She cupped his tiny face. "And promise me you will _never _come up here again."

"I promise." He vowed before running off, the sound of his feet becoming more distant as he descended the tower.

"I thought I told you to stay away from my family!" Arya seethed and flickering a murderous glance towards the Frey. He gave her a pleasant smile in return. That notched her anger higher.

"I never harmed your youngest brother. I just needed him to get _you_ up here is all."

Faster than she ever thought possible, he reached out with long hands and captured her left wrist, yanking her to the window. He wrenched her hand back and somehow twisted her arm so that she was immobile. She grunted as a sudden bolt of pain lanced up her arm. Arya regretted not wearing _Needle _that morning. The freezing wind blew in from the crumbling window, bringing a gust of snow into her face. It blustered around her face, whipping her hair up and around them like a dark curtain. Elmar pulled harder so her back pressed to his chest.

Arya glanced down and saw Rickon run towards their brother. Once there he clung to Shaggydog as if the creature was no more than a stuffed animal. The direwolf however looked like a beast from nightmares. He always had been the most temperamental of the litter, yet he was always there for Rickon. Shaggydog's dark corse fur was a stark contrast to the delicate flutter of snow around him. His green eyes still blazed like Wildfire as he pressed closer to little Rickon.

Nymeria then barked happily as Gendry walked up to them, long legs easily closing the distance despite the thick snow. Arya smiled and it didn't go unnoticed. Elmar shoved his head in the crook of her neck and followed her gaze down to the trio. Their laughter rang out, a cheerful warming sound.

"They look so nice down there, playing in the snow don't they my little lady?" Arya felt a surge of heat through her body, a wash of anger. "Oh don't worry I've taken your... threat, quite seriously." His face turned into her neck and she felt him smile against her skin. He nodded towards Gendry and chuckled.

"What are you talking about?" She growled, feeling another shot of pain up her arm.

"You don't have to pretend with me, little lady. I saw you last night. I saw the kiss you shared." Her eyes widened in horror. "It seemed you quite liked his attentions." His other hand started stroking down her side, tracing the curve of her waist. Suddenly furious, Arya spun in his grip and slapped him. It was a good hard slap that echoed in the small room. His head snapped to the side, blood welling up under his pale skin. Slowly he turned to face her. "If you didn't like him, you wouldn't let him-"

"You don't touch me. _Ever._" Arya snarled, cutting off his remark. Her left hand stung fiercely, yet she would quite happily smack him again. Elmar just continued giving her that sardonic smile, though his eyes hardened.

"You love him, don't you?" He asked, obviously determined to get an answer. She was just as determined not to give him one.

"Well I would say that you love too many people. And the more people you love the weaker you are." Arya suddenly understood his words. "You'd be amazed at the things you will do to keep them safe."

He grinned again and spoke over her as she tried to stammer a reply.

"I've expanded my horizons; it is you who allowed me to do so. See, I realise now that I acted too rashly for hurting Bran. He wasn't the right person. As you quite rightly said, he's your brother. Yet the Prince is not your family, nor is he a Stark and you obviously love him as much as any one of your brothers."

Faintly she heard her own words. 'You will never get to me by hurting my family, Frey.' He had now taken her words literally.

"No." Arya gasped as understanding dawned. He was now threatening Gendry. He was trying to threaten a Prince.

It took her a few moments to steel her nerves. _The wolf does not cower. _She told herself and took a deep breath, taking in the Northern air, feeling it cool her raging emotions.

"No." She repeated sternly and he rose an eyebrow at her defiance. "I will not let you hurt him. I won't. There is nothing to stop me from telling him what you just-" Elmar squeezed her slender wrist even more, the delicate skin twisting under his fingers. Arya turned her head to meet his gaze. "I. Won't. Let. You."

"We'll see. After all, he didn't believe you when it was your _own brother_. What makes you think he will this time?" He sneered, visibly enjoying the discomfort he was causing her.

What really annoyed her was that he was right. Neither Gendry nor Jon had trusted her judgement when Bran had almost been killed. This would be even harder to explain. Even to her own mind it didn't make perfect sense.

"Why are you doing this Elmar?" She asked, biting her lower lip. "You cannot want to marry me this much, surely." He released her hand and left the tower, his laughter ringing out from behind him.

Arya didn't understand that twisted boy. All she could do now is hope that Gendry would believe her. If not for her sake, but his. And if he didn't, then she would have to save him another way.


End file.
